The Fallen Shroud
by Maderic
Summary: Three Jedi Padawans struggle to find themselves during the chaos of the Clone Wars and the rising tide of the dark side. Three months before 'ROTS.' Chap XXIV now up!
1. Chapter I

Quick note: As per the request of some readers, here are pronounciations for the three main characters' names. )

**Serra Keto** _"Sara Kay-tow."_  
** Ejin Zalo** _"Eh-jinn Zay-low"_  
** Sallanis Morné** _"Sa-lawn-niss More-nay"_

**Chapter I **

The glowing globe of Mesna Tal was a patchwork of greens and blues suspended in the black infinity of space. From the command deck of the _Invisible Hand_, flagship for the Confederacy of Independent Systems, General Grievous watched with great interest at the small space battle unfolding all around him. Republic capital ships and Confederate cruisers were exchanging shots with one another while a countless cloud of smaller droid fighters and ARC-170 clone fighters dueled to the death in a quest for control of the skies about Mesna Tal.

"General," a pilot droid stated, "our reinforcements are now exiting hyperspace in sector sixteen."

Grievous shifted his head, the battle-scarred visage that held his organic brain; the only real Kaleesh portion left in his rebuilt body. With heavy footfalls, Grievous stepped close to the window and touched his claw-like fingers to the glass.

"Corporal," Grievous called out, his voice carrying an eerie mechanical tinge to it, "three Republic heavy cruisers are making an attempt to encircle our fleet defenders. Such a move would cut them off from our support crafts. Dispatch tri-droid squads four through fifteen to cut through their outer escorts. Then," a deliberate pause, "_we_ will destroy their cruisers."

The order was carried out without question and Grievous watched as fifteen separate squads of CIS tri-droid fighters, the newest model of droid fighters, raced out of the _Invisible Hand_'s hanger bay and into the midst of the space battle raging in open space. Within minutes, the tri-fighters' unique curved-wing appearance and rounded shapes weaved in between a swarm of oncoming Republic ARC-170 clone starfighters. The clone soldiers, genetic duplicates of the infamous late bounty hunter, Jango Fett, piloted their crafts with the same skill that Fett had possessed. Enhancements given to them by the cloners on Kamino ensured that ARC pilots were as highly skilled as one could be with a fighter.

With the exception of, perhaps, a Jedi Knight.

Grievous watched with great intrigue into the cloud of ARC fighters. Intermixed with them were a handful – perhaps ten, maybe more – Jedi Starfighters; their broken-nose and wedged-shape design was unmistakable. Curious, was Grievous, to find out the identities of those Jedi pilots. He longed for a formidable opponent to combat with. Reportedly, the two great heroes of the Clone Wars, Anakin Skywalker and Obi-Wan Kenobi, were taking part in the Republic's campaign to take Mesna Tal. Grievous eagerly awaited a confrontation with either of them and was sure in his own abilities that neither would be able to overcome him.

Though, he mused, Dooku had warned him of Anakin's growing power. He was not to underestimate Skywalker or Kenobi, Dooku had told him. Both were excellent swordsman and highly skilled in the Jedi arts, despite the fact that Dooku could have killed both of them back on Geonosis at the onset of the war.

_Another failure you've committed, Dooku_, Grievous thought.

Though Dooku was the one chiefly responsible for Grievous' skills with a lightsaber, the Droid General never took a kind liking to the elderly Sith Lord. Perhaps it was because Dooku and Grievous were so alike; both arrogant and demanding. These traits may have caused a rift between the two of them that was irreparable.

_Then again, perhaps I just hate him. Dooku is nothing more than a voice for our cause. He has no power in regards to our military, which is the only thing keeping our cause alive. If it weren't for me, this war would have been lost a long time ago._

"Oh, but General," Dooku's voice called as he walked briskly through the entrance to the command deck. "Your feelings are deceiving. You know as well as I do that this war is a joint effort. Do not forget, my friend, who it was that rebuilt you and who it was that gave you an army to command."

Grievous' reptilian eyes centered on the Sith Lord and he replied, "It is not your place to make such claims, Dooku. I owe my life to the Banking Clan, not you."

"And who was it that taught you to wield those lightsabers you carry?" Dooku said with a sly grin on his old face.

"Perhaps," Grievous paused, "I do owe you some gratitude for morphing me into the being I am on this day. _Perhaps._"

Dooku gave a smug smile. "Now, now, General. We are not in this to argue, are we? Our purpose is to bring the Republic to its knees. True, without your military genius we would be nowhere in this fight. Without my political genius, we would not be in this fight in the first place."

Grievous snapped his head back to stare through the large windows at the space battle. His tri-fighters were succeeding in their efforts to force back the ARC-170's and deplete the Republic's outbound air resources. As soon as the Republic capital ships repositioned, Grievous would take to a greater offensive role and unleash a torrent of gunfire.

"Corporal," Grievous barked "position our bombardment on their forward-most capital ship."

"Yes, General," the droid replied. "Repositioning bombardment guns. Ready to fire."

"Open fire," Grievous barked.

The bombardment cannons aboard the_ Providence­_-class vessel released their blaster charges at the trio of Republic capital ships, tearing the group to pieces. Through the window ports of his flagship, General Grievous could make out the forms of helpless clone troopers being thrown into the vacuum of space from open holes in the vessels he had attacked.

"It appears then, General, that we have won the day," Dooku said confidently, walking up to stand adjacent to Grievous and glimpse the battle.

"We still have the Jedi to deal with, Dooku," Grievous said, pointing a claw to the window where a trio of Jedi Starfighters zoomed through a swarm of Vulture droid fighters, blasting apart scores of the droids as the Jedi pilots made their way towards the _Invisible Hand._

"Let them come," Dooku stated. "I feel an unusual sensation in one of them."

"Skywalker?" Grievous asked, his yellow and black eyes lighting up at the hopes of sparring with the legendary Jedi Knight.

"No, not young Anakin. This one does not feel as determined as he. The one in the lead is _strong _in the Force. Very strong. I sense a rogue…a Jedi maverick."

Dooku had known, as had the Jedi, that the Clone Wars had wreaked havoc to the discipline and structure of the Jedi Order. It had brought about a near end to the strict ways that students were taught under. With Masters and Knights dying at nearly a daily rate, Padawans were often left to train themselves.

During the harsh conditions of the various sundry battlefields that arose, also, on a daily basis, they were left with little choice but to follow their own heart. This had become dangerous to the way the Jedi operated and had produced numerous young Jedi, either Padawans or young Knights that had become rebellious to the authority of the elder Jedi, often defying the wishes of the Council. This had caused a handful of Jedi to even be dismissed from the Order.

Dooku and his Sith Master, Darth Sidious, had used a few of these rogue Jedi to their own advantage. Due to Dooku's charm and persuasiveness, he was able to con some Jedi over to the dark side, luring them with false promises of unlimited power and unnatural abilities. Even Dooku's pet project of a Sith protégé, Asajj Ventress, was nothing more than a twisted former Jedi, deformed by the wickedness of the dark taint.

"General," a droid said from behind them; Grievous turned his head. "Those three fighters appear to be attempting to board us."

"I am aware of this, Corporal. We will let them board us. Then they shall be destroyed," Grievous replied.

Dooku turned to Grievous from his spot at the window and said, "It would not be wise to underestimate them, General. They are determined and we have someone they want to retrieve."

"I still do not understand why we cannot simply kill Ra'all. It would spare us much trouble if I were to dispatch her."

Dooku eyed Grievous and said, "All shall be revealed to you in time, good general. Your success in taking Ra'all from her palace was exactly what we were hoping for. You've proved that you are capable of such a move and such a service shall be needed from you again, soon enough. Know this, General: you shall soon be granted your wish of disposing of Empress Ra'all. I trust that you will enjoy doing such."

If General Grievous could smile, he would have given a large, sadistic grin. Dooku could see all the emotion Grievous was expressing in his eyes. Grievous had pulled through with their plans as they intended. The abduction of Empress Reshi Ra'all of Mesna Tal, led by General Grievous himself, was a precise practice test for a greater plot that Darth Sidious and Dooku had crafted. Some day, they had plans for executing their plot to the fullest of its intentions. Sidious had instructed Dooku with carrying out their future plan and Dooku had reason to believe that Sidious wished it to occur soon.


	2. Chapter II

Weaving between a blistering hail of blaster fire, Jedi Padawan Serra Keto guided her Jedi Starfighter swiftly through the vastness of space and raced into the heart of a formation of incoming Vulture fighters. Perspiration running down her brow from the sheer intensity of the battle, Serra shifted the control stick ever so lightly to the side, allowing her to roll away in anticipation of the droid fighters' intended move. Two of the Vulture fighters dove beneath her while the other two split off to either side of her. Slowly easing the control yolk, her fighter shifted to the right. With a swift jerk of her wrist, she spun her starfighter in a circle and dropped beneath one of the Vulture fighters. 

Just twenty years old, Serra was still only an apprentice, despite the untimely death of her Jedi Master. Sy-Sen Frask had lost his life on one of Chancellor Palpatine's frivolous Outer-Rim sieges. The foggy gray world of Gallis was where he had died, fighting against the Separatist forces right to his last breath. Emotionally shaken for weeks, Serra barely pulled herself together after she had witnessed Sy-Sen die. Because of the disorder caused by the Clone Wars, she was yet to take the Trials to become a Knight. Thusly, she remained under the title of Jedi Padawan; the death of Master Frask notwithstanding. In the eyes of the Jedi Council, she was but an apprentice; only a lieutenant in the Army of the Republic.

Her unique appearance was just one of the many features of her that rose attention from her fellow Jedi. A rebellious maverick during her apprenticeship, Serra had nearly been expelled from the Jedi Order following two separate, chaotic incidents, including a romantic exploration with another Jedi that had caused controversy for her and her Jedi Master. Serra was often looked down at by the elder Jedi, but no one could deny her skill and deep inner connection to the Force.

Serra was well trained with her unorthodox form of using two lightsabers one of which was her late Jedi Master's own hilt. Two dark brown long leather gauntlets, studded with buckles, were wrapped around her arms, running from her wrists to her upper arms. A sleeveless over-armor shirt, the same color as her gauntlets, was pulled over and cut off below her breasts to show a tan shirt with a collar that completely covered her neck. A tunic skirt fell over green-brown pants and a black belt was tied around her thin waist where her two laser-sword hilts were hitched. Silky black hair was pinned on both sides of her face at her brow and fell in two unique layers past her shoulders.

She raised the nose of her fighter and targeted the nearest droid fighter. With some quick trigger pulls, she unleashed several blaster bolts that tore into the Vulture fighter and shredded it to pieces. Serra turned and found two of the other Vulture's from the formation. She released a proton torpedo at the one farthest from her and banked around to catch the second. Chasing it briefly through space, she soon blew off one of its wings with repeated blaster fire and it exploded.

"Watch it, Serra," a male voice cautioned over her comlink.

"I've got this taken care of, Ejin," Serra replied, a bit irritated.

Another voice came onto the comlink, a female's, and asked, "Would either of you like to tell me what exactly we're attempting to do?"

"We're going to save the Empress, Sallanis," Sera said firmly.

"You hope," Ejin Zalo replied.

"We're going to," she said while blasting apart a lone Vulture droid. "We have to," she added.

"We're defying the wishes of Master Syther and Master Kinn," Sallanis said, her voice uneasy over the comm. "Not to mention, we're breaking away from our stated mission objective."

"Look, Sallanis," Serra snapped, "we were entrusted with protecting Empress Ra'all," she continued, but Ejin interrupted.

"We were entrusted with protecting our base on Mesna Tal, not the Empress."

"Same difference," Serra said. "We did make a promise to her that we'd protect her, if you recall."

"And a Jedi never breaks a promise," Ejin added, diving between two oncoming Vulture droids and spiraling back up to blast them to pieces.

Sallanis sighed. "For the archive records: I don't like this."

"But you'll help us rescue Ra'all?"

"Yes," she answered reluctantly.

"Then we're off," Serra said. "Captain," she called out to the lead clone pilot in the squad she had under her command.

"Yes, Lieutenant Keto?" he replied over the comlink from the helm of his ARC-170.

"Have your squadron follow us and provide pressing fire against those blasted droids," she ordered.

His voice filled with static, the lead pilot asked, "What is your inbound target locale?"

"The Separatist flagship," she responded just prior to unleashing a torrent of blaster fire at a squad of droid fighters.

"Acknowledged," he replied. "Heading to you, now."

The three Jedi Starfighters headed through an incoming flood of droid fighters. Serra, Ejin, and Sallanis carved a wide path through the cloud of enemy fighters. More could be seen pouring out from numerous the Trade Federation command ships and even more from the _Invisible Hand_.

Serra banked hard right and said through gritted teeth, "Damn it, Captain, where in the galaxy are you?"

"My apologies, Lieutenant Keto," the clone replied. "We were intercepted by a squadron of tri-fighters. I've got two on my tail and I can't shake them."

"Sallanis, help the ARC squadron," Serra commanded.

Hesitant at first, Sallanis soon sped her starfighter away from Serra and Ejin and over to the group of ARC's, their numbers rapidly dwindling. She dove underneath the lead ARC-170 and came up around it to fire at the two tri-fighters that were tight on the clone captain's tail. She released a spurt of blaster bolts that ripped into the foremost tri-droid and then raced towards the second, firing a torpedo at the enemy craft. The tri-fighter exploded as soon as the missile found its mark.

"You're clear, Captain," she said.

"Much obliged," he replied.

Sallanis moved to rejoin Ejin and Serra. _I don't know where this is going, Serra, but you better know what you're doing_, she thought. _This is getting worse by the minute. The Separatists are sweeping our forces out of space. _Affirmed, a new thought crossed her mind. _I have to help Serra and Ejin. Even if this is the wrong move, I've got no choice. _

In all of her nineteen years as a Jedi apprentice, this was the worse situation Sallanis Morné had ever encountered. She had been taking place in space battles for nearly three years during the Clone Wars, but this was surely the most chaotic conflict she had been a part of. With a quickly-depleting number of Republic ships and an ever-increasing number of Separatists, the odds of a Republic victory looked rather bleak.

Sallanis wiped her brow and repositioned the headset tiara atop her red-brown hair. As the nineteen year-old human Padawan apprentice to Jedi Master Xenos Syther, a legendary Jedi for many reasons, she wore a traditional Jedi outfit: a creamy white tunic, white pants, and knee-high brown boots. Her hair fell just past her ears, in line with her angular jaw. Her sharp green eyes examined the battle scene carefully; she was trying to relocate Ejin and Serra.

_I hope I haven't lost them now. _

Soon, she spotted the clearly identifiable design of their Jedi Starfighters. While unique in appearance as a ship on their own, most Jedi saw it fit to customize their own ships to their personal likings. Sallanis had spent many hours modifying both the hyperdrive and the forward shields on her starfighter. Repair was something of a hobby for her when she wasn't on some distant world in the Outer-Rim, leading clonetroopers into battle.

"We're clear now, Sallanis. With a little help from the Force, I think we can make a good landing," Serra said.

"You plan on flying into the hold of their flagship and landing?" Sallanis' words were marked by distinct surprise; she hadn't anticipated such a bold plan.

"What other choice do we have?" Ejin said. "This is going to be a close one, but we can pull it off."

"Lieutenant Zalo," the clone captain said.

"Yes, Captain?"

"Lieutenant, we're picking up an inbound group of tri-fighters," he said.

"Captain," Serra cut in. "Can your squad hold them off while we make our dash to the Separatist flagship?"

The captain paused, but quickly said, "We can try, Lieutenant Keto. We can try."

"Don't try, Captain," Ejin instructed; a bit of Jedi wisdom in his words. "Do," he added.

"Yes, sir."

The ARC captain and his squad of seven remaining ARC-170's took off to the right of the three Jedi, in hopes of intercepting the attacking tri-fighters. This was the window of opportunity the Jedi were waiting for and they quickly exploited it. Racing as fast as they could at the _Invisible Hand_, the three Jedi Starfighters rarely fired at any enemy targets; rather, they sped as fast their engines would carry them through open space.

"Straight ahead," Serra said.

"We're on it," was the simultaneous reply from Ejin and Sallanis.

They barrel-rolled through a spider web of blaster fire and weaved their way in between a maze of Republic and Separatist fighters. Ahead of them laid their intended goal: the open hanger bay of the _Invisible Hand_. Serra pressed down hard on the control stick, forcing her starfighter to travel at even higher speeds. Her onboard astromech droid cautioned her of the consequences of her action; if she went too fast, she risked the chance of a malfunction. Her engines were already too hot as it was.

"I know, Artoo," she said angrily. "That's a risk I have to take, though."

R2-M6 gave her a reply of beeps and whirrs.

"I understand you're only trying to help me," she started, "but I can take care of myself right now. I've got this under control."

As if ironically on cue with her statement, a flashing error message scrolled across one of the screens in her cockpit.

_Just my luck_, she thought bitterly. _C'mon, just give me twenty seconds more then you can die on me. Just get me in that star-blasted hanger._

Her plea to the Force worked. A half a minute later and she glided through the hanger bay's open doors. The nose of her starfighter began to steadily lower and she tried desperately to pull it up higher. It was to no avail. Her starfighter crashed into the hanger bay and skidded across the floor, spinning. It stopped moving when it slammed into the interior wall of the hanger.

R2-M6 bleeped and cried loudly. Serra cried out to herself, sounding hurt far worse than she was. Slowly, she climbed out of her Jedi Starfighter and examined the hanger. In seconds, battle droids and super battle droids began to converge on her position, blaster fire screaming through the still air. In a second, her two lightsabers came to life in her hands, illuminating her in a deep green glow.

"Kill the Jedi!" a battle droid exclaimed, firing its blaster rifle.

She whirled and twirled, deflecting blaster bolts back at their shooters, taking down droid after droid with her careful aiming. A second later and she watched as Ejin and Sallanis' fighters zoomed through the hanger bay entrance and landed a _little_ more graceful than she had. Instantly, they emerge from their cockpits.

"Rough landing, Serra?" Ejin asked, flashing a smile as he drew his lightsaber. The blade was a blur of blue light as he swung it forward to bring it down onto a super battle droid.

"Nothing I couldn't handle, as always," she replied, slicing off the arms of a battle droid and then turning to cut apart another.

Sallanis activated her blue lightsaber and raised it to deflect a raging torrent of blaster fire that tore through the room from the muzzles of dozens of blaster rifles. Scores of battle droids began to flood the hanger bay, all armed and aiming at the Jedi. Intermixed with the crowd of battle droids were super battle droids, the upgraded version of the standard mechanical soldiers. With their no-neck design, thick upper body, and repeating wrist blaster, super battle droids were considered far more dangerous to deal with than regular battle droids.

"This is going nowhere," Serra remarked. "We have to hurry before they kill the Empress."

"She may already be dead, Serra," Sallanis said.

They continued to cut apart battle droids and deflect a never-ending hail of blaster fire. Ejin and Serra advanced into the crowd of droids; their lightsabers whirling and slashing, cutting down tens of droids. Ejin spun, beheaded a droid, and sliced off the arms of another. Ejin and Serra worked in unison, whirling and twirling; their lightsabers were only a mere extension of their arms. Fluent and rhythmic, they slashed down droid after droid. Behind them to the left stood Sallanis, deflecting blaster bolts with great precision.

"We're running out of time. Do we know where they're holding her?" Ejin commented while stabbing a battle droid.

"No, but I know how to find out," Serra responded.

"How's that?" Sallanis asked.

"If we find General Grievous, we find Empress Ra'all," she said firmly.

_General Grievous_. Just the sound of his name sent a cold chill down the backs of even the strongest of Jedi. Grievous was a vicious mechanical monstrosity; a cybernetic terror that hunted Jedi for sport and made a sick game out of collecting the lightsabers of those he killed as trophies. The Jedi had first encountered General Grievous on the red-dust industrial world of Hypori, where Daakman Barrek and a group of Jedi had been decimated by the fearsome Droid General.

"I'm not looking forward to meeting Grievous again," Ejin said.

Serra decapitated the last battle droid that was left standing in the hanger. She brushed some strings of black hair away from her eyes and turned to stare into Ejin's cool blue eyes.

"Ejin, I know you were nearly killed by Grievous back in the palace and I'm truly sorry for not being there to help you but you have to hold yourself higher than that. Maybe on our own, we're no match for Grievous. Together, however, we can beat him," she said.

Ejin nodded. "I agree. But if we're going to make this rescue a success, we have to find Ra'all."

"And that means we have to find Grievous," said Sallanis.


	3. Chapter III

**Chapter III**

General Grievous narrowed his fiendish yellow-black eyes at the holo-scan display before him. In holographic form, he watched as three Jedi laid waste to more than thirty droids in the hanger bay. Calmly, they exited the hanger and walked into a long corridor. Grievous had already dispatched more than a dozen additional droids -- droidekas, included -- to deal with them when they reached the elevator that would, if they were wise enough to use it, carry them all the way to the command floors of the _Invisible Hand_.

"These three are clever and well trained," Dooku commented from behind Grievous.

Grievous replied, "And it was your idea to allow them to board us. Keep that in mind, Dooku."

"Oh, this shall prove to be an interesting contest, will it not, General? Have you not been craving for a worthy Jedi who will stand the slightest of chances against your impressive self in a duel?" the Sith Lord asked.

Grievous clenched his right hand into fist. "You are correct. It has been so long since I faced anyone worthy of my skills."

"Now, now, General. It is not good for yourself to boast of your own -- albeit, most impressive -- skills with a sword. You are but a skilled amateur when placed on the level of _certain _people."

"And who is of this class of certain people, Dooku? You?"

"Perhaps," he answered with his typical prideful smile. "We've gone over your technique and delivery countless times. You have great power and polished skill, but you would prove little more than a distraction to a Jedi on par with Mace Windu or Yoda."

"I will deal with the Jedi personally," Grievous said and walked away from Dooku, his silver and red cape flickering as he moved.

Grievous walked by a pair of Magna Droids, Grievous' elite, hand-trained robotic sentinels who served as loyal bodyguards to the general. The two droids shifted their electro-staffs -- unusual weapons that had been constructed specifically to counter the lightsaber of a Jedi -- from their positions at their sides. With their glowing red eyes fixed on General Grievous, the droid bodyguards awaited a command from their leader.

"Follow me," he ordered; the droids obeyed.

Flanked by his dangerous duo of Magna Droids, General Grievous shot a fleeting glance at Count Dooku.

Dooku said, "I shall enjoy watching this on the holo-scans, General."

_You're not brave enough to join me, are you? _Grievous thought.

"This will not take more than a minute," Grievous replied as he and his two droids exited the room.

* * *

Serra Keto sliced through a maroon-shouldered battle droid and turned to decapitate another. Calm and confident, she wielded her two lightsabers with lethal accuracy, cutting apart droids all around her as the three Jedi Padawans made their way through a lengthy corridor in the _Invisible Hand_. To her left stood Ejin Zalo, carving his way through two droids and to her right was Sallanis Morné, slicing off the arm of a super battle droid. 

"How much farther do you think?" Sallanis asked.

"I'm not sure," Ejin replied. "But all of this must have attracted the attention of someone by now."

Anxiety dripped from Sallanis' words as she posed the question that weighed heavy on all three of their minds: "What if _he _comes?"

The he, of course, was in reference to General Grievous. Ejin drew back his lightsaber and stabbed the last remaining battle droid in the hallway. Slowly, he turned his head and wiped the perspiration off his brow with his tunic sleeve. As Ejin had made quite clear earlier, he was not enjoying the prospects of fighting Grievous again. During the Separatist' raid on the Imperial Palace where they captured Empress Ra'all, Ejin had been the only Jedi to fight with the Droid General. Grievous and he had taken part in brief swordplay that nearly took Ejin's life. He was reluctant to endure that again.

Though, a separate part of the twenty-one year old Jedi apprentice _longed _for a chance to re-fight the mechanical beast that Grievous was. Playing on his emotions, a certain part of Ejin sought revenge on Grievous. However, the vengeful side of him was far overweighed by his more rational, sensible, and _fearful _side. Perhaps it was true; perhaps Ejin was afraid of General Grievous…

"Look," Serra said, her voice commanding and authoritative, "I don't want to fight Grievous any more than you do," an unusual comment for her to make considering she had never dueled with the general before, "but I do want to free Empress Ra'all."

"As do both of us," Sallanis said. "But running head-long into Grievous could get us killed or worse."

"What is worse than death, Sallanis?" Ejin asked as they walked down the long, winding corridor.

"Enslavement to the dark side," she answered. "Think about it. How often does Grievous travel alone? Many of the reports we've received place Dooku somewhere nearby. I wouldn't be surprised if he was here, too."

"You have a good point," he said. "What do we do if we run into Count Dooku on board this star-blasted ship, Serra?"

Brashly, she said, "We kill him."

"The Jedi Council wants him alive, Serra. Besides," Sallanis paused, "if Anakin and Obi-Wan couldn't defeat him, what makes you think we could?"

"All they ever talk about is Anakin and Obi-Wan. I'm getting rather sick of hearing their names," Serra said. "What makes them any different from us?"

"The prophecy," Ejin replied.

"And how, per se, are we supposed to know that Anakin is actually the one the prophecy refers to?" she argued.

"I don't know," Sallanis chimed in. "All I do know is that I don't think we'll survive this if we encounter Dooku."

_If we run into Dooku, I'll kill him_, Serra mentally boasted. _Anakin is no better than me. He's just had some luck, that's all. _

She knew that her thoughts betrayed her training; the Jedi did not believe in luck. The Force determined their destiny. However, as a result of the Clone Wars, Serra had come to learn the concept of luck was a tangible one. She had been on the receiving end of both it, both positively and negatively. She hoped now that luck -- and the Force -- would be on their side in their attempt to rescue Reshi Ra'all.

"All in all," Serra commented, "we're doing pretty well right now."

In sync with her comment, an odd, but familiar, sound could be heard coming down the hallway as they reached an intersection of corridors. To their left rolled two droidekas, the deadly rolling units of the Trade Federation were equipped with their own personal deflector shields and powerful forward blasters. To their right, a squad of super battle droids marched down the hall.

"They're going to catch us in a cross-fire," Ejin said.

"Not if I have any say in it," Serra replied as she ran down the hall to their right, heading straight into the group of super battle droids.

Lightsabers flailing, she cleaved through two droids and maimed another. Serra jumped and planted her right boot in the face of a third droid, only to come and kick another to the floor. It crashed with a hard metal _thud_. She spun and cut through another droid…

"We don't have a lot of room here," Sallanis said, twirling her lightsaber to deflect blaster fire from the two droidekas that had uncoiled only meters from her and Ejin.

"Can you buy me a minute, Sal?" he asked.

"I'll try," she replied.

Ejin ran to the assistance of Serra, cutting down two super battle droids with one fluent stroke of his lightsaber. He pivoted and slashed off the arm of another; sparks spewed from severed limb's socket. Pushing out with the Force, he threw a droid against the wall. Ejin watched as Serra destroyed the last super battle droid in the squad.

"I have to help Sallanis," Serra said.

Sallanis was being forced back by the advancing crab-like walk of the droidekas, whose blaster fire she was repeatedly deflecting with each backwards step. Serra joined in with her, blocking and reflecting blaster bolts back at the droidekas, only to see that the shots were being absorbed by the shields of the droids.

"This is going no where," she said. Louder, Serra said, "Run."

The three Jedi took off to the right, racing away from the droidekas who continued to fire at them. The Jedi blocked and deflected shots as they fled, but their concentration was maintained on leaving the cramped quarters of the hallway. They reached an open oval-shaped room with a hallway to either the front or back of them. Softly, they could hear the _clicking _sound of the droideka's 'feet' touching the floor as they walked.

"Where to now?" asked Ejin.

"There," Serra pointed with one of her lightsabers at the door to an elevator. "Let's see where this leads us."

"We can't just keep wandering this ship, aimlessly looking for the empress," Sallanis argued.

"I told you, Sallanis," Serra said, bitterness and angry creeping into her tone, "were going to find Ra'all by finding Grievous."

"What if I told you that I didn't want to find General Grievous? Would that change the way you look at me? How you regard me?" Sallanis asked.

Serra stopped and turned her head to stare her friend in the eyes. She could sense that the questions Sallanis had asked were her true emotions shining through. Scanning slightly deeper into the Force revealed the blatant truth to Serra: Sallanis was afraid of encountering General Grievous.

"I can't speak for Serra, Sal, but if I was faced with the chance of fighting Grievous or avoiding him, I'd gladly avoid him," Ejin commented as he walked to the elevator and pressed a few buttons on the control panel.

"Sallanis," Serra said softly. "Saying that you're afraid to meet Grievous doesn't make me think any less of you--."

Sallanis interrupted, "I didn't say I was _afraid _of fighting Grievous. All I said was that I don't want to."

"There's a difference?" Serra asked. "Either way, I don't think either of you are less of a Jedi than I am for not wanting to fight Grievous."

"Hey, this door isn't opening without a pass code," Ejin said, still trying to work with the controls of the elevator.

Serra took two steps closer to the door and slashed at the control panel with one of her lightsabers, producing a flash of sparks. The door slid open with a mechanical hiss.

"There you go," she said with a cocky smile. "Here's to hoping that this will lead us to Empress Ra'all."


	4. Chapter IV

**Chapter IV**

The space battle still raged all around the _Invisible Hand_; Count Dooku stood watching the Confederate and Republic vessel exchange shots with one another, achieving moderate success on both sides. A sea of indistinguishable starfighters slaughtered each other as they raced through space at break-neck speed. Even without Grievous at the helm of the Separatist flotilla in the battle, the Confederacy of Independent Systems was still in control of the conflict. The Republic struggled in vain to hold back an overpowering number of star cruisers while continuing to lose their own forces at a steady rate.

The door behind Dooku crawled open. Without turning around, Dooku asked with his typical level of arrogance, "Are you enjoying your stay here, Empress?"

"What do you intend on doing with me, Dooku?" Ra'all replied as a quartet of battle droids marched her into the_ Invisible Hand's_ bridge.

Dooku waved off the droids and they left through the door that they had entered. He let his eyes fall onto Reshi Ra'all to examine her more closely. Only twenty-six years old, Reshi had been born into the richest family in the system; the royal family of Mesna Tal. A tall, slender, and stunningly beautiful woman, Reshi wore a rather simplistic deep green tunic. Her flowing brown hair was tied into a ponytail behind her head. Her narrow nose and wide brown eyes were her most distinct facial features.

"Oh, my dear Empress," Dooku began with a smile, "you know I'd never wish ill upon you."

"You took me from my palace with your droids and your sick general and you have the nerve to tell me that you _aren't_ going to kill me? You're a worse liar than I thought," she said spitefully.

Dooku's smile faded. "If you must truly know, Your Highness, I will tell you this: three Jedi have infiltrated this fine vessel in a sad attempt to rescue you."

"You sound scared."

"Hardly," he said. "The only thing these Jedi will accomplish is adding three more lightsabers to the good general's collection belt."

"Why, Dooku? Why Mesna Tal? What is it that you want from me and my planet? We have nothing to offer you. We declared our neutrality in this war as soon as it began. We trade openly with both the Republic and your Separatist Confederacy. We've even offered exile for your Separatist Council. We mean you no harm, Dooku."

"Ah, but that is precisely the problem, my dear Empress. Your neutrality has proved to be your undoing. It has been decided -- by powers greater than your comprehension -- that Mesna Tal serves as a training ground, if you will, for a greater objective," Dooku replied.

"What do you mean?" she asked.

"You will see soon enough. Well," a pause, "actually, _you _won't. I'm afraid that you're correct in your assumption, my dear, of your impending fate."  
"Are you going to kill me or are you going to have that robotic monster do it for you?" asked Reshi, her words dripping in defiance.

The Sith Lord smiled yet again. "The general has already requested that he be the one. Far be it from me to deny him his wish. Rest assured, Empress Ra'all," venom in his voice, "you will die." He turned to the window and said, "Come, Empress, from here you can witness the defeat of the Republic as they struggle in vain to defend your planet. Enjoy your view as it will be the last time you ever see your world again."

"Do you know that you're one sick, sadistic person?" she said. "What happened to you, Dooku? You used to be a Jedi; you used to be a hero to so many--," she continued, but an angry look on Dooku's face and a wave of his hand cut her short. Try as hard as he might, she couldn't speak -- a result of Dooku's mastery of the dark side.

Dooku grinned. "Are you at a loss for words, Your Highness? I have no need to explain myself to the likes of you. And," he paused as he walked towards her, "it would be in your best interest to not question me."

A beeping sound caught Dooku's attention and he glanced at a thin, silver, disk-shaped box attached to his belt. Dooku unclipped the holo-transmitter and walked over to the nearest control table. He placed the receiver onto the table and clicked a button. Instantly, the fluttering image of a cloaked man appeared before him. Reshi was unfamiliar with the figure, but reasoned that it had to be someone of great importance to Dooku. Then, when she saw the Count of Serreno drop on bent-knee to the hologram, she knew that it must have been someone of greater authority to Dooku.

"What an unexpected pleasantry, Master," Dooku said while bowing.

"Rise, Lord Tyranus," Darth Sidious said. "Tell me; what is the status of the battle? Was the general successful?"

"Have a look for yourself, my lord," Dooku replied.

Sidious turned his head in the hologram and stared at the Empress of Mesna Tal. Sidious' eyes caught those of Reshi's and a terrified look befell her face.

_Dooku has a master? Who is this? What's going on? _Her mind was racing.

"You have done well, Lord Tyranus," Sidious said with a smile curling his lips. "Where is Grievous? I wish to speak with him."

Dooku paused. "The good general is off teaching a lesson to a trio of pesky Jedi who boarded our ship in a pitiful attempt to rescue her."

"You have outdone yourself, Darth Tyranus. I am impressed."

"Your praise means much to me, Master. What is it that you wish to see done with her?"

"The attack was merely a practice run. She was but a part of that test. Now that General Grievous has proved he can pass that test, she is no longer of use to us. You may dispose of her at any time, Lord Tyranus," Sidious said.

"Yes, my master," said Dooku.

"The time to implement our plans fast approaches," Sidious stated. "The time for my revelation is coming."

Dooku smiled. "The Jedi will not know how to react. They will be caught completely defenseless."

Sidious cut in: "And this pitiful galaxy will be ours. Go forth, Lord Tyranus. Go forth and execute our plans."

"Your wish is my command, Master. I am but your loyal student," Dooku said with a bow.

The hologram of Darth Sidious fissured and disappeared. Dooku reached his hand out and retrieved the holo-transmitter. Placing it back into the pouch on his belt, he turned to stare at Reshi Ra'all. True, she had just gazed upon the ghostly image of the Dark Lord of the Sith, Darth Sidious. True, she had heard every word of their discussion. But, as Dooku knew, it mattered little. Reshi Ra'all would not live long enough to pose any threat to their plans; Dooku would make sure of that.

"Now it is time to check upon the general's status," Dooku said to himself as he walked to the holo-scan and activated the frequency for the hallway where he knew Grievous was. In holographic form, he watched as General Grievous and his two Magna Droids stepped out from an elevator and into a long hallway…

Ra'all looked at Dooku with contempt. Her mind swirled with a plethora of thoughts. _So Dooku is but a pawn for someone else? Who is this one he refers to as his master? Seemingly, Dooku and Darth Tyranus are one in the same. I only wish I knew more. _

Dooku turned to glimpse Empress Ra'all, still rendered speechless by the awesome power of the dark side of the Force.

"You do not need to know more," he said.

Ra'all was stupefied by how Dooku was able to read her mind.

"Don't look so surprised, Your Highness. I can sense everything you're thinking," he started and then added: "There are many things you will never learn…and even more things you wouldn't understand if you were taught them."

Frustrated by her inability to speak, Reshi could only settle for shooting Dooku angry looks which did nothing to alleviate her situation. She knew, as did Dooku, that he was in total control of the situation.


	5. Chapter V

**Chapter V**

The elevator gave a mechanical hum as it activated and the doors closed. With a _whirring_ sound, the elevator slowly carried the three determined Jedi Padawans up many floors of the massive Separatist flagship, the _Invisible Hand_. Serra Keto flashed a confident gaze to her two fellow Jedi as the elevator slowly glided up the shaft.

"Do you think they'll kill her or hold her for ransom?" Sallanis Morné asked.

"Dooku would have no reason to bargain her away for money, Sal," Ejin Zalo reasoned. "And if he gets tired of her, he'll cut her down for sure. The stars know she can be a bit," a pause, "_irritable _at times."

Serra smiled. "Both of you can just relax. We're going to free her."

"Don't go jinxing our rescue when we haven't even found her _or _Grievous," Ejin said.

"You shouldn't be so eager to find Grievous," Sallanis warned.

Ejin sighed. "I know, I know. I'm no more eager to see him than you are, but if he's our means of finding Ra'all, then I'm all for locating that monster."

"You know, they say that he was once a normal being. He was once a brilliant commander for his own people, before the Clone Wars even began," Serra said.

Sallanis frowned. "What happened to him?"

"A shuttle crash, they say, claimed his body. The Intergalactic Banking Clan was able to save his life, though, with the fusing of what remained of his living body with droid parts," she continued. "I thought you knew this, Sal?"

"I probably did," she said. "But it's been a _long_ three years."

Her light-hearted comment was entirely true and applied not only to the three Padawans and not only to the Jedi Order, but the Republic and the galaxy, at large. The past three years had torn the galaxy to pieces, destroying countless worlds, and killing tens of billions of beings throughout the universe. One could only wonder how the galaxy would repair itself if or when the Clone Wars were over. No one could predict the future of the Jedi or the Republic…and few were sure if they even wanted to.

"I never longed for war," Ejin paused, "but so much is going to change when this is over."

"If this is ever over," Sallanis said unenthusiastically.

"Stop being so pessimistic," he chided. "We have the Seppers," a derogatory slang term for Confederates, "on the run in many systems."

"If only Palpatine would stop sending us off to the Outer-Rim to die on inhospitable planets," Serra commented; painful memories of her master's death instantly flooded into her mind.

"I don't know if it's all Palpatine's fault," Sallanis said. "Sure, he keeps making more and more decisions on where to send us, but he does have a great handle on how this war must be fought."

"He's a politician," Ejin remarked with disdain. "Not a soldier."

"You're a Jedi," she countered, "not a soldier."

"Palpatine has never stepped foot on a battlefield in his entire life. He doesn't even know what a battle droid's blaster sounds like," he said.

"You don't like him, do you?" asked Sallanis.

"Yes and no," he answered. "Palpatine has done a great deal to hold the Republic together and I respect him greatly for that. I just wish he'd leave it up to us on deciding campaigns in this war."

The elevator door clicked and slid open to reveal a long hallway, doors lining both sides. Serra was the first to step out and she turned her head to stare at her two Padawan friends from over her shoulder.

"I agree with Ejin," she said. "Now," a slight pause to glance back to the hallway in front of them, "we have a rescue to conduct."


	6. Chapter VI

**Chapter VI**

The hallway was long, wide, and open with doors on both sides. Lights ran in rows on the floor, illuminating the corridor. The trio of Jedi apprentices exited the elevator, lightsaber drawn, and walked slowly down the hall. Carefully scanning for any threat, Serra called out to the Force for assistance. Slight tremors rippled through the Force; cautioning the three Padawans to be alert.

"Where do we go now?" Sallanis asked.

Frustrated, Serra said, "I don't know. Maybe the good general is too busy to come here and face us himself."

Chillingly, Grievous' voice replied, "I'm never too busy to deal with the likes of you, Jedi."

They snapped their heads to stare in the direction of the corridor ahead of them. Through the entrance marched General Grievous and his two red-eyed Magna Droids, electro-staffs already lit with their ends pulsating blue electricity and producing a soft hum. The three Jedi Padawans' immediate reaction to seeing the frightening cyborg and his duo of loyal androids was to back up in defense. Lightsabers raised and ready for combat, they stood their ground.

"Take the two on the fringes; leave the one in the center for me," Grievous instructed his droid bodyguards.

Silent and obedient, the Magna Droids raised their electro-staffs and advanced in attack formation. Sallanis exchanged glances with Serra and they attacked the two droids, twirling and slashing at them. To their surprise, the droids were capable of not only matching the Jedi's moves, but returning skilled blows and strikes of their own. Serra ducked a swipe from an electro-staff and struck hard at one of the Magna Droids, but the droid was able to defend itself…

General Grievous parted his silver cape to reveal his 'trophy' belt; six lightsabers hung from his waistline. Grievous reached his right hand to his waist and retrieved one of his stolen hilts. With a _snap-hiss_, the green lightsaber glowed to life. He narrowed his snake-like eyes on Ejin and leaped off the floor. Grievous landed and immediately unleashed an impressive array of strikes and slashes that Ejin found hard to defend against. Ejin ducked a swing at his head and slashed at Grievous' feet. The general jumped to evade the attack and he produced another lightsaber in his other hand; the blue blade ignited and he crashed it down onto Ejin's lone laser-sword. Lightsabers flashing and dancing, Grievous quickly forced Ejin across the room, backing him against a wall. Ejin and the Droid General exchanged lightsaber strikes, blows, and parries through the corridor.

It was then that Ejin realized he was rapidly running out of fighting room. Grievous had him backed up to the wall and he had taken over control of the duel completely; Ejin was doing everything he could simply to stay alive. Ejin evaded an awkward slash and rolled to the side, propelling himself away from the general's deadly blades…

"You cannot run forever, Jedi," Grievous scoffed, pointing a lightsaber at his enemy menacingly.

Grievous advanced; his silver-crimson cape swirling as he moved. Ejin ducked an incoming swipe and the general snaked his way across the room, slashing and striking at the young Jedi. While fighting for his life, Ejin backed up into Serra as she continued to duel with one of the pair of Grievous' Magna Droid bodyguards.

Over her shoulder, Serra said under her breath, "Hold out a little longer, Ejin. I'll help you in just one," a slight pause; then, though gritted teeth as she swung her saber at the droid, "_minute_!"

Ejin nodded, but did not verbally reply. He did not have time to speak with his friend; he was too busy with the fearsome cyborg. Ducking and moving fast, Grievous was lightning as he sporadically moved and danced about the room; his unorthodox style was quickly tiring Ejin. Despite being in prime physical condition, he simply didn't have the stamina to keep up with Grievous at such a fast pace. Ejin stared at the general with a determined gaze; Grievous glared back with murder in his reptilian eyes…

Serra delivered a well-aimed slash at the Magna Droid and one of her green lightsabers sliced cleanly through its right arm, severing the android's limb with a shower of sparks. The droid grasped its electro-staff with its one good hand and continued to fight, much to Serra's amazement. After a short exchange, she moved to take advantage of the weak points in the droid's defense. Skillfully, she spun her left lightsaber around and passed it through the left leg of the Magna Droid, severing the limb. She spun her lightsabers around in a circle and decapitated the bodyguard with a single stroke of her blade.

Serra turned to the Droid General and attacked him from behind. Grievous countered the attack and turned his full attention to the Padawan, slashing and striking at her with great speed and a most unusual fighting style. Ejin came in from the side of Grievous, but the cyborg saw him approaching and was more than capable of defending himself. Grievous traded blows and hits with Serra and Ejin simultaneously.

Grievous, Ejin, and Serra continued to fight back and forth until the Separatist Commander booted Ejin in the chest; the strong alloy talons stabbed into the Jedi apprentice's skin, digging into his flesh and causing him to shout in pain. Grievous flung Ejin through the air with a kick of his leg and he crashed against the wall. The sight of Ejin hitting the wall only served to drive Serra Keto to a higher level of skill as she delved deep into the Force to remain calm and collected in the face of her opponent.

Across the room, Sallanis was holding her own against the lone Magna Droid; the two continued to give and take blows against one another. She stared into the glowing red orbs that served as the droid's eyes; the cold and emotionless gaze that she received from the droid put her on edge. Prior to the creation of Grievous and his Magna Droids, no Jedi -- to Sallanis' knowledge -- had ever been outmaneuvered by droids. The Magna Droids, just like the general they protected, were nearly flawless in their swordsmanship.

The young Jedi warrior narrowly ducked a swipe at her head aimed by the Magna Droid and rose up to slash at the droid. She whirled around and crashed her lightsaber against the droid and claimed its right arm at the shoulder joint. The droid sputtered and sparked for a brief moment until it continued the fight even with the missing limb. Sallanis had come to learn quickly -- from her fights with Magna Droids on the surface of Mesna Tal and here present duel with the droid bodyguard on the Trade Federation cruiser -- that General Grievous' droids were relentless in their pursuit of a target. Even when maimed or damaged, they would fight to every last circuit was fried.

She cut back and sliced through the Magna Droid's abdomen, slashing it apart with a flash of sparking light. The upper-half of the droid fell to the floor and began to craw towards Sallanis. The girl was astonished by the droid's persistence. She sighed, twirled her lightsaber, and slapped the droid across the face-panel; destroying the bodyguard instantly. She turned and saw Serra fighting the menacing form of the Droid General with Ejin slowly stirring to his feet.

Grievous was perfect in his delivery and flawless in his accuracy. As she had always heard, the general did not lose the fast pace he had set at the onset of the duel. It was here that a dangerous, defeatist thought began to be pounded into Sallanis' young mind: General Grievous could not be beaten. Not by Serra nor Ejin nor Sallanis. These three Padawans would fall victim to Grievous just as so many countless Jedi had through the past three years. As grim as her beliefs were about their impending deaths at the hands of the monster in command of the Separatist forces, Sallanis rushed to the aid her friends.

Coming in from the left of Grievous, her arrival forced the Droid General to change his tactics to combat against both Serra and Sallanis simultaneously. Ejin was recovering, but his movements were slow and rigid as he attempted to stand to his feet after the vicious kick he received. A great pain resonated from the young male Padawan's chest; he was certain he had sustained broken ribs and potential internal bleeding. His left hand grasping his wounded torso, Ejin raised himself to his feet and staggered towards General Grievous.

Serra called out, "Ejin, stay back. You're injured; he's too powerful!"

Ejin did not heed her warning. He couldn't. He simply couldn't stand idly by and watch as the general overpowered and killed his friends. He had to step in to intervene, even if he was wounded. He wouldn't allow Grievous to gain an advantage of Serra and Sallanis. He would fight -- and if need be, die -- in order to help his two female friends. The _snap-hiss_ of his blue lightsaber drew the Separatist General's attention away for just but a moment. Ejin shouted and a charged at Grievous, lightsaber slashing and flailing. Grievous snaked his way out of the fight; away from Sallanis and Serra to confront Ejin.

"You cannot win, Jedi," his reptile voice hissed from under his bone-white fanged mask. "The three of you together are not powerful enough to defeat me."

Serra pointed one of her lightsabers at Grievous and said, "You're backing away, General. Are you scared?"

If Grievous could laugh, a bellowing, arrogant chuckle would have burst out from him. His reply was that of great boasting combined with never-ending distaste.

"You are nothing, young Jedi. You will only fall like all the rest. I've never collected _two _lightsabers from the same Jedi before. You're something rare and I'll take great pleasure in your execution."

"I don't think so," she said.

Sallanis' weary eyes caught Serra's. Serra didn't' need to ask her how she was feeling nor what she wanted to do in regards to their ongoing fight with Grievous. Sallanis' eyes told her that she wanted nothing short of fleeing from Grievous. Yes, Sallanis had always been a committed and determined Jedi apprentice. Yes, she had always fulfilled her objectives and expectations given to her by her Jedi superiors. However, she always avoided conflict whenever she could. And fighting something as fearsome and dangerous as the deadly Droid General was something she certainly sought to avoid at all turns.

Grievous frightened Sallanis, whether she would admit it or not. Her words earlier had been in betrayal to her feelings; she was scared of Grievous and, perhaps, rightfully so. Grievous was a Jedi-murdering, lightsaber-stealing beast. He would not stop; he would not hesitate, and he would not relent in his pursuit of claiming more trophies. Sallanis feared that if this continued, her lightsaber would soon be added to his belt. Perhaps she was right…

"Well, Jedi," Grievous said, as full of himself as ever. "Are you going to make the next move or should I simply kill all three of you now?"

Serra smirked. Suddenly, she had a plan.


	7. Chapter VII

**Chapter VII**

The elevator door was ahead of them, just down the opened hall. The Jedi stood on the far end of the corridor, lightsabers drawn as they faced down their enemy. The dreaded General Grievous, a lightsaber in each duranium hand, stood only meters in front of the elevator that they had entered from. Serra Keto spun her emerald lightsabers. Sallanis Morné wiped her brow and lifted her blue blade. Ejin Zalo staggered around as he stood unstable, yet with his laser-sword activated and ready for combat.

Serra walked one short step at a time, towards the cyborg commander, her lightsabers at her side, but prepared entirely to strike and defend herself. Grievous shifted his cape and glared murderously at her as she approached. Slowly, he began to advance in her direction. Then, as expected by any who watched -- and their audience included not only Sallanis and Ejin, but also Count Dooku, who still watched them from the holo-cams in the bridge of the _Invisible Hand_ -- the two of them sprung back into action. Lightsabers striking and sizzling, their fought resumed in front of the elevator doors…

Ejin looked at Sallanis and asked, "Take him from the right and you from the left?"

"No," she said. "I'll take him from the right. You won't take him at all. You can't, Ejin. You're injured."

"It's only a scratch," he said; an incredible lie.

"I don't care," she stated. "You're only going to get yourself killed."

With that, she left him in her brisk walk towards Serra and Grievous, twirling her lightsaber once as she moved to engage the general. She raised her lightsaber and attacked Grievous from his right and the Droid General deflected the assault and ducked a slash from Serra at the same time. Grievous backed up a foot to adjust his tactics to better face the two of them in such close-quarters. Then he moved to the offensive, quickly forcing them across the room, away from the elevator.

_And the elevator was Serra's intended goal. _It was central to her plan that she required them to be close to the elevator. She delved deeper into her feelings, tapping mixed emotions of anger and frustration to fuel her in her fight. She threw herself at the Jedi-killer and cut away at him, slashing and blocking in a dire attempt to force Grievous backwards, close to the elevator. Sallanis, too, dug deeper into her connection to the Force to drive the general back.

Sallanis took a bad angle when she came in on an awkward slash at the general and Grievous quickly capitalized. He forced her back, jarred her lightsaber from her grasp, and knocked her to the floor at the same time. She hit the ground with a _thud _and her deactivated hilt rolled away from her fingers. The pistons in his powerful duranium legs whined as he sprung his right leg forward with a fast snapped his talons around the hilt of her lightsaber. With a flash of blue light, he activated her lightsaber in his magnetized foot.

Standing on one leg, Grievous sprung into action against Serra, three lightsabers whirling and twirling. He slashed and struck at Serra who was increasing their efforts, even in the face of such an impressive display of swordplay, to deflect the attacks and force the Droid General back towards the elevator. Grievous danced and twirled, slicing, slashing, and cutting at Serra as she tried her hardest to push him away.

Serra ducked a slash and spun to deliver her blade to a strike against Grievous' three. She evaded a blow and jumped the lightsaber that he wielded with his foot. With the power of the Force at her side, she opened the elevator doors behind Grievous. With a mechanical _hiss_, they slid open revealing the open elevator shaft.

Sallanis crawled to her feet, weaponless. Reaching out with the Force, she pulled one of the half-dozen lightsabers from Grievous' belt and activated the green blade. She struck at Grievous and he again readjusted his tactics to counter the attacks from the pair of Padawan girls. The fight continued with his three lightsabers against their three; an even match on paper if one excluded Grievous' fast-as-light reflexes or the two Jedi's ultimate ally: the Force.

It was here that Serra called on her deepest emotions, using the full weight of her inner feelings to aid her. Frustration, confidence, arrogance, fear, and anger flowed through her veins. Anger was the prominent emotion within her; boiling up from her heart and flowing from her in a passionate rage. She released her anger in fluid strokes and arcs of her lightsabers, cutting and forcing Grievous back towards the open doors of the elevator. With a quick push of the Force, she threw General Grievous threw the open doors and into the shaft. He plummeted down the shaft at great speed until he sunk his magnetic talons into the dura-steel shaft walls. Several meters above him, he watched the elevator doors slide shut.

* * *

Count Dooku was amused at the sight before him on the holo-cam. Serra Keto was more impressive than he had been led to believe. Sallanis faired far better than he had thought she would, as well. Then there was Ejin. Dooku grinned. Ejin was a fierce warrior, but his lack of potential shined brightly in his failed fight with General Grievous. The Droid General had been easily able to counter his moves, dismantle his defenses, and nearly killed the young Jedi. Serra, however, was the one who had caught his attention forcefully. Her skills with a lightsaber were well polished; her connection to the Force unarguable. And best of all, Dooku sensed _much _fear in her. She tapped into the reservoir that was her anger in order to defeat Grievous. That anger gained Dooku's appreciation. Perhaps she could make a prominent replacement for Asajj Ventress.

Ah, yes, if she could be turned to the dark side of the Force, Serra Keto would make a _powerful_ ally to Darth Tyranus and his Sith master. If Dooku was given the chance, as he now believed he would, to speak with Serra face-to-face, she could be shown the true nature of the Force. He could open her eyes to the might of the dark taint. Dooku had gone wrong in his training of Ventress. He had allowed her to be too centered solely on revenge and anger against the Jedi. While revenge was prominent to all Sith and dark followers, it could not be used by itself as motivation. Revenge drove Darth Sidious to formulate his plans. Revenge, however, did not drive Darth Tyranus. Dooku was driven by the illusions of power he witnessed whenever he closed his eyes. He dreamt of the day to come when he would have free reign as the second-in-command of the Sith Empire.

No, not simply second-in-command.

Dooku smiled at the thought. While he was loyal to his master, it was the nature of the Sith for the apprentice to rise up and snatch the mantle of Dark Lord away from their master. Dooku was powerful, but, perhaps, not powerful enough to challenge Sidious. Not at the moment, at least. One day, Dooku knew he would follow in the footsteps of all the legendary Sith. One day, he would do as Sidious had done to his own master, Darth Plagueis, and slay him. One day, Dooku would take his own Sith apprentice.

And, perhaps, that is where Serra Keto factored in. Scarcely in the past three years -- even in the past thirteen years -- had he come across a young Jedi with more potential than her. She rivaled Anakin Skywalker, the alleged 'Hero With No Fear,' in terms of potential and skill. Anakin may have had a deeper connection to the Force than Serra and he may have caught the omni-present eyes of Darth Sidious and even perked the Dark Lord of the Sith's attention, but Dooku doubted highly that Skywalker could ever be converted to the dark taint. Anakin may have been one to tap the powers of anger and passion at times, but he was a committed Jedi. Dooku couldn't foresee him leaving the Order, no matter what. And certainly not to join Darth Sidious and fight against the Republic he had fought so hard to preserve for the past three years.

No, Anakin would not turn, Dooku was sure of that. Sidious would be disappointed, indeed. His master's plan had been relying on Skywalker turning to become a powerful ally. But Skywalker would not do such an action. He would never betray the light side, Dooku believed. No, not Anakin would not, but perhaps Serra would. If only Dooku could speak with her in person. He had to show her the ways of the darkness and how to access the dark side within her.

A Neimoidian sergeant stood up from his seat at the control deck of _Invisible _Hand, walked to the Count of Serreno, and said, "Count Dooku, the Jedi are approaching the command bridge. The general has disappeared from the holo-cams. We cannot find him. How many droidekas should we dispatch to stop them?"

"None," Dooku said coolly.

The Neimoidian nearly fainted. "None, my lord?" he said, his face turning a sickly pink. "None?" he repeated numbly.

"Yes, Sergeant, I want no droids dispatched to prevent them. _I _will take care of them of them personally. I want you to take our guest," a glance and a sly smile to Reshi Ra'all who stood beside a pair of super battle droids, "and bring her to the onlooker's star lounge."

"It shall be done, my lord," he said. "You heard him," the sergeant said to the droids, "escort the empress to the star lounge."

The droids nodded. From the corner of the room, two Magna Droids approached from their position near the wall. One of them, IG-102, stood in front of Dooku and said, "We will accompany them for extra security precautions."

Dooku gave a slight nod. The Sith Lord didn't care for Grievous' MagnaGuards. While a helpful and impressive threat to any Jedi, the Magna Droids were a sign of something Dooku didn't appreciate: the end of the classical age of Force-users. What happened to the cosmos when the galaxy saw the use of droids who could combat Jedi? Dooku shuddered at the thought of droids and cyborg monsters, such as Grievous, using lightsabers. To Dooku, a lightsaber was an elegant weapon, meant only for use by the most talented and skilled in a galaxy that housed trillions of beings. Dooku's personality, for example, was reflected in his elegance with his lightsaber. The Count was a fencer; a skilled and stylish swordsman with honor and class. While Grievous could be taught to be an elegant fencer, he would forever lack the fluid skill and style that Dooku possessed.

A sudden dream swept into Dooku's mind; a vision of he training Serra Keto to become the stylish fencer that Dooku was. She could be morphed into an even more powerful duelist. Dooku could mold her into a perfect doppelganger; he could guide her to emulate his own swordplay. Perhaps she could even rise above his skill! Dooku had to admit, he was no longer as fresh and young as he had once been, despite that he was now at the peak of his power. The dark side had given him that power and he could teach it to Serra. He_ wanted _to teach it to Serra.

Dooku's mind was made up. He would confront Serra Keto, Sallanis Morné, and Ejin Zalo when they made their attempt to free Empress Ra'all. He would dispose of Sallanis and Ejin within minutes, leaving only him and Serra. Then he would offer her an ultimatum: give herself to the dark side or die. In the end, it would be her choice and her choice alone. But Dooku was sure that he could persuade her to see the truth behind the power of the darkness. The mere thought of retraining someone as young and gifted as Serra was intoxicating to Dooku. He grinned slyly at the idea as he turned his attention back to the space battle still transpiring over the glowing orb of Mesna Tal.


	8. Chapter VIII

**Chapter VIII**

Ejin Zalo limped over to the corner of a long hallway. Serra Keto poked her head around the same corner to observe the open corridor. No battle droids could be spotted, but she wouldn't be so careless in her actions. She couldn't allow there to be any room for mistakes at this point in their journey. No, they had gone far too far to have their rescue fall apart around them now. Serra's own arrogance corrected herself. _They _hadn't gone this far; _she _had. She had faced and bested General Grievous! What Jedi could boast that? Ki-Adi-Mundi nearly died along with Shaak Ti and Aayla Secura when they had first encountered Grievous on Hypori. Unlike countless scores of other Jedi, Serra not only survived a battle with the general, but won it.

Emotions surged through her, lifting her spirits to new heights. She could feel the presence of Empress Ra'all. And yet, she could also feel the presence of something -- or rather, someone -- else. It was dark and cold, yet familiar. Dooku. She, at first, questioned her senses, but soon confirmed the fact: Count Dooku was onboard the ship. Not only onboard, but close to them. Dooku radiated an aura of underlying evil masked by his intoxicating personality.

"Dooku's here," she whispered.

Ejin and Sallanis nodded and said in unison, "I feel him, too."

Sallanis asked, "What do we do? We can't defeat Dooku."

"I just killed General Grievous," Serra said, only to be interrupted by Ejin.

"You don't know that. Grievous could very well still be alive and still be hunting us. We've all heard plenty of stories of how persistent he is. Grievous will stop at nothing until he has our sabers on his belt and you know it."

Serra's emotional high from besting the Separatist Commander quickly faded after hearing her friend's words. She couldn't argue this with Ejin; he was right. Serra had no way of confirming that Grievous was dead.

"Okay, okay," she conceded. "You're correct; maybe I didn't _kill_ Grievous, but I did defeat him."

"And now we're stuck facing Dooku. This rescue is going to get us killed," Sallanis said wearily.

The sudden _clanking_ of metal feet against the floor caught their attention. In the hallway before them marched a quartet of super battle droids. In the center of their group walked Reshi Ra'all, her hands bound behind her back in electro-binders. Serra smiled at the thought of the rescue she would mount to save Ra'all. This was going to be easier than she had presumed. With only super battle droids guarding her, they had a much easier task before them. All it would take would be cutting down the four droids, freeing Ra'all, and exiting the ship.

Just then, two MagnaGuards walked behind them, electro-staffs unlit and at their sides as they marched. The capes that were slung over their shoulders swayed as they moved, heads bobbing slightly and continually looking about their surroundings. Serra, Sallanis, and Ejin ducked back behind the corner to avoid being seen. Serra unhitched one of her lightsabers but did not ignite it. She shot a look back at her two friends.

She leaned up to them and, as soft as she could, whispered, "We have to find out where they're bringing her."

"Follow them?" Sallanis asked silently.

Serra nodded her head. The three Jedi slowly crept around the corner and looked down the hall. The Jedi Padawans stood approximately fifteen feet away from the droids and the captive Empress. The droids turned left and stopped at a door. One of the MagnaGuards pushed a buttons on the control panel and the door slid open with a hiss and the droids crossed into the room. The Jedi exchanged glances and raced towards the door.

_So much for surprise_, Ejin thought as he made his way -- one hand holding his inactivated lightsaber, the other on his ribs -- to the door.

When the Jedi reached the door, the droid's had already closed it. Serra cursed silently to herself and her lightsaber flashed to life in her right hand. The green blade slashed the control panel and a fountain of sparks erupted. The door crawled open and the Jedi entered, lightsabers raised and activated.

"Ejin, Sallanis, take the super battle droids. I'll handle those guards," she said as she reached for her other lightsaber.

Ejin shook his head. "As you wish," he muttered under his breath.

Limping towards the super battle droids, he called upon his connection the Force to speed up the recovery of the injury he suffered at the hands of Grievous. Sallanis came in to his right and together they deflected blaster bolts as they advanced into the group of four. Ejin turned and slashed off the arm off one droid and spun his lightsaber back around to stab it through the chest of the same droid. Sallanis did likewise, carving up a super battle droid with remarkable speed. She whirled and cut down the third droid as Ejin slashed off the legs of the final droid. It collapsed to the floor with a _clang_…

Serra Keto rushed at the two Manga Droids and attacked both of them simultaneously. Her twin green lightsabers crashed against the two electro-staffs with crackles and sizzles. The two droids, IG-102 and IG-114, moved to the sides of Serra -- their typical joint assault pattern when dealing with their primary opponents, Jedi. She jumped a swipe from One-O-Two's electro-staff and struck at the droid's face. The very tip of her lightsaber slashed IG-102's right photoreceptor. The red orb flashed out in an instant, in its place was a black burn-scar running across the red photoreceptor. The MagnaGuard did not falter, even with one seeing-eye. One-O-Two spun its electro-staff around and slapped it against one of Serra's blades. She steadied herself in the face of both relentless opponents and launched a new attack against the Magna Droids.

With a cunning move, she severed One-Fourteen's right leg above the duranium knee-joint. IG-114 remained standing steady on one foot and continued the fight until she slashed its right arm. The droid continued yet, using one arm to wield the electro-staff. Soon, she detached that arm, as well. The droid stumbled around for a brief moment before it approached her. She backed away and stabbed the droid through the chest panel. It sputtered and fell to the floor after she withdrew her blade. All of this occurred simultaneously while she dueled on with IG-102.

Then, as if it were planned or coordinated, IG-102 backed away from her and deactivated its electro-staff. Ejin and Sallanis, from their position near Empress Ra'all at the other side of the room, snapped their heads to look at the droid's odd behavior. Their heads soon turned the other direction. The dark side crept through the room, bouncing off every corner and filling the chamber to the brim with a cold sensation of death. Serra turned her head slowly and her sight affirmed her suspicions. In the doorway stood the Sith Lord, Count Dooku.


	9. Chapter IX

**Chapter IX**

"Greetings, Serra Keto. Good day, Ejin Zalo. Welcome, Sallanis Morné. I am pleased the three of you could take the time from your busy lives as Jedi generals and join us," Dooku said from the entrance.

Serra angled her blades at Dooku and sneered, "We've come all this way to free Empress Ra'all and we will not be stopped short. Not even by you, Dooku."

Her comment drew a hearty laugh from the aging Sith. "I see," Dooku said. "You are brash, Serra. I sense much anger in you."

Ejin stepped forward, lightsaber swirling. "We'll give you one chance to leave, Dooku."

"And I would need this opportunity to leave, why, per se?"

"There are three of us, Dooku. You cannot take us all on by yourself," Serra stated.

Dooku grinned. "We shall see. Come now, who wishes to be first? One of you will invariably charge at me. Which one of you will it be?"

Sallanis advanced to stand beside Ejin and Serra from her spot at Reshi Ra'all. She twirled the lightsaber that she had taken from General Grievous and stared uneasily at Dooku. The blue-white lightsaber flashed over her face as she moved the blade to an on-guard position.

"No?" asked Dooku. "None of you are willing to go first? Ah, I see. You're a team," bitterly, "then it is decided: you'll die as a team."

"You'll be the only one to die," Serra said. She glanced at her friends and turned back to the Sith Lord. "We're going to stop all of this here and now. The Clone Wars end here."

"You are misguided beyond words, my dear," Dooku stated. "I propose to you an offer, Serra--," Serra interrupted to cut him off.

"I don't want your damn offers, Dooku. This ends now!"

His smiled faded. "I see," he said.

Dooku withdrew his sleek and highly polished scimitar lightsaber. With a flick of the emitter, a blood red energy blade glowed to life. Dooku cut a Memsi arc through the air with his laser-sword and stepped softly down the short flight of stairs, his brown cape of armor-weave swaying as he walked. Ejin moved towards Dooku and raised his lightsaber in preparation of the Sith Lord's impending attack. But Dooku did not attack Ejin. Instead, he leaped over him, showing incredible grace for his old age, and landed behind him to land an attack at Sallanis.

She raised her lightsaber to defend herself and the two exchanged a short series of sword moves. Dooku dodged a kick directed at him by her and he leaped her swirling blade. Dooku countered an attack and lunged at Sallanis with deadly precision and would have claimed her arm had she had been slower in her reaction. Sallanis twisted away to evade the strike. She reversed a blow by the Sith and forced her blade against his. They tangled weapons and Dooku picked the girl off her feet with the aid of the Force and threw her against the wall to their right. Sallanis crashed into the wall and hit her head hard. She limply slumped to the floor as if she had broken her neck…

Ejin charged at Dooku from behind and slashed at him. Dooku turned swiftly to block the attack and -- with great elegance -- opened an offensive series of well-aimed strikes and blows. The lightsabers cut at each other, sizzling and crying in protest as they locked against one another. Ejin leaped Dooku's blade and took a strong swing at his head which the Sith ducked. Dooku rose and the two continued to spar until Serra joined the fight, as well. Dooku booted Ejin to the floor with a swift kick to the stomach and turned his attention to Serra.

Emerald lightsabers whirling, Serra locked blades with Dooku and the two fought back and forth. Dooku struck at her with his usual grace and great skill. Dooku ducked one of her lightsabers and moved to the right of her to attack her from her side. The two gave and took lightsaber blows and parries in their fight as Ejin crawled to his feet, one hand clutched to his hurt abdomen. Ejin struck from the side of Dooku and the two Jedi attacked as one to strike and slash at the Sith. They forced Dooku back a few steps, but he held strong against both Jedi. The three continued to fight with the two Jedi seeming to gain an advantage. That advantage died quickly.

Ejin swung at his head, aiming to decapitate Dooku, but the Count of Serreno ducked the move. Dooku rose again and -- with a sharp stroke of his crimson lightsaber -- caught Ejin in a vulnerable situation. The young Jedi shouted in terrible pain as Dooku's lightsaber slashed through his wrist and scorched his arm. Ejin's severed hand, still holding his lightsaber, fell to the floor. Quick as a sand cat, Dooku released a volley of Force lightning at Ejin, lifting the boy up into the air with the blistering blue-white electricity that ripped into his body. Ejin, tortured by the Force lightning, was thrown across the room and landed beside Sallanis' motionless body.

Serra was stunned for a brief moment as she watched her friend -- her one time, perhaps current, love attraction -- be maimed and gravely wounded. Anger surged through Serra's veins. Aggression flooded her blood and carried it all throughout her body. Her eyes narrowed on Dooku. Though she hesitated at first, her mind was quickly made up. She would fight -- and die, if needed -- in order to kill Count Dooku.

A new thought warmed her for a brief moment. If she killed Dooku, the Clone Wars would be over for good. She stood at the door to bringing a close to the vicious wars that had torn the galaxy to shreds and claimed billions of lives throughout the universe. She stood on the verge of single-handedly winning the Clone Wars. If she could kill Dooku, the Wars would be over and she would be recognized as the greatest hero the galaxy had ever known or would ever know. The name Serra Keto would be forever linked with great bravery and cunning skill. Resolved, she knew it in her heart: she was capable of slaying Dooku. By taking Dooku's life, she would pull the legend that was Anakin Skywalker from under his feet. The Republic would tear him from the pedestal they held him on and put her there instead. Serra, not Anakin, would be the Hero With No Fear. She, not Anakin, would be the galaxy's grandest idol. The prospect of slaying Dooku and snatching such a title was almost too much for her overwhelming pride to handle.

And Dooku could sense it.

He lowered his blade and said, "Come now, Serra Keto. I can feel it in you; you want to kill me. Strike."

She raised an eyebrow. The thought of Dooku requesting her to kill him was unusual.

"Did you not hear me, girl? Strike!" he ordered, his weapon pointing to the floor. "Or is it," Dooku continued with a hint of a smile, "that you don't, in fact, want to kill me? Ah, yes, I can feel it in you. You want to kill me, Serra, to take the credit for such an action. And justifiably so. The Republic would hail you as a hero forever. Imagine: Serra Keto, Victor of the Clone Wars; Slayer of the Sith; the Heroine With No Fear. You'd even overshadow Anakin Skywalker and Obi-Wan Kenobi. But I can offer you even more."

"What?" she asked, questioningly and with great disdain in her tone.

"Oh, you will be hailed greatly for killing me, Serra. But such acclaim will not matter to the Jedi Council. Perhaps, they'll make you an official Knight. Perhaps not. Maybe you'll get a rewarding speech from Chancellor Palpatine. Maybe not. Possibly you'll receive a 'congratulations, Serra' from Skywalker himself. Possibly not. I can sense that you want much more power and acclamation than such trivial awards as what you will acquire for taking my life."

"I don't care about rewards; I'm a Jedi. I'm just doing my duty."

Dooku laughed. "Your words deceive your emotions, Serra. I sense much anger in you. Use it. Wield it like a lightsaber. Craft it to be your second closest ally; the Force only superceding it. However, I can give you the gift of more power."

Serra shook her head. "I don't want your gifts, Dooku."

"Ah, but you do. You do. If you followed my ways, Serra, you could become invincible."

"I don't want your lies, either, _Sith_!"

"You say that as if it is a bad thing. No, Serra, you are mistaken. The Sith are not your enemy. They only wish to utilize the Force for the greater good of the galaxy."

"To enslave and murder millions more," she scoffed. "I _hate_ you, Dooku. I hate you and I'm going to kill you."

"Good," he said, a certain venom in his voice. "I want to you use that hatred, Serra. Join me, Serra."

"Never!" she shouted. "I'd never betray the light to join a murderer disguised as a statesman. You're a Sith, Dooku. I'll never join you!"

"So be it," Dooku paused, "_Jedi_."

Dooku raised his blade again, acting as if he was about to parry an upcoming blow. Instead, he reached out with his left hand, calling to the dark side and using it as his ultimate ally. In the confusion and chaos of the fight, Serra had turned a blind eye to poor Reshi Ra'all. The Empress had backed herself away to the far corner of the room, cowering in terror, and tucked into the protection of the fetal position below a sweeping window that gave a view of the space battle outside. Dooku reached deep into the dark side and harnessed a power he seldom saw need to use. He didn't like tapping this particular power, but for this matter, he found it oddly fitting. Pressing his index finger and thumb together, he grasped Empress Ra'all's throat with the sheer hatred and awesome power of the dark side. With the Force, he wrapped his old hands around Reshi's throat and squeezed slowly, cutting off all precious air to her lungs.

Serra noticed what was happening and shouted, "Stop it!"

Dooku only smiled while he continued to strangle Reshi with the Force. The choking pressure grew tighter and tighter around her neck and he could feel her body screaming out for oxygen. Her face began to turn a pale blue as she held her hands to her throat, desperate to draw air into her lungs, but to no avail.

Serra advanced a few steps, twirled her blades, and shouted, "Let her go, Dooku! It's me you want."

"Oh," he commented while continuing Reshi's slow suffocation. "I'll settle for killing you both."

Serra had had enough. Her and her two friends -- Sallanis now lay unconscious or worse; Ejin now maimed and incapacitated from the insidious attack by Dooku -- had come too far to be stopped now. This was going to end. She was going to end it. She would do what they had come for: to save Reshi Ra'all. Killing Dooku would just be a bonus objective.

She leaped at Dooku, lightsabers whirling, forcing him to release his hold on Reshi's throat.


	10. Chapter X

**Chapter X**

Darth Tyranus grimaced as he raised his blade to defend himself from Serra Keto's attack. He twirled his glowing red lightsaber and parried the Jedi Padawan's strike. Dooku spun his sword and sprung at Serra, swinging his weapon down to her feet. She leaped the assault and leaped to the side. She turned back and took a forceful slash at Dooku's shoulders. The Sith Lord blocked her move and countered with a series of strikes and attacks of his own. She ducked a swipe aimed at her head and spun in a circle, slashing and struck at Dooku. They tangled laser-swords.

Serra sneered, "I'm going to kill you,_ Sith_!"

Smiling, Dooku replied, "What fanciful thoughts you have. Tell me, are you ready to surrender yourself now?"

"I'd rather die," she said through clenched teeth.

"That can be arranged."

Dooku broke away from their lock up and struck at her. He clashed his saber against hers with a sizzling, sparking result. Serra ducked to her left and rolled away from a skilled, but awkward attack by Dooku. Serra leaped over Dooku and the two continued their fight, striking and sparring through the room. Without breaking stride, Dooku planted a foot in Serra's stomach, forcefully knocking her to the floor with a _thud_. One of her lightsabers rolled away from her and she looked up to see Dooku approaching. Serra rolled to the side and flung herself to her feet, using her lower back muscles and thighs as a sling-shot. She crashed her lightsaber onto Dooku's and flashed him an angry, but determined gaze.

Dooku's reaction was swift, skilled, and painful. He pushed her lightsaber to the side and reached his left hand out. A short burst of Force lightning was released from his finger tips. The blue bolts of electricity reached Serra and she did not have enough time to raise her lightsaber to deflect the dark side attack. The Force lighting ripped into her body and she shrieked in pain. The force of the blast threw her back off her feet and she fell hard to the floor, her lightsaber falling from her grasp.

Dooku stood triumphant. Serra saw her own life flying past herself. The thought crept slowly into her mind as Count Dooku -- Count of Serreno, secret Sith Lord, and political leader of the Confederacy of Independent Systems -- approached. The red fire of his scimitar lightsaber shined bright; he slowly walked to her. Serra tried to move, but every muscle in her body felt as though it was ablaze. Every inch of her burned in pain; each muscle seized up and scarcely able to move. Dooku continued to advance, a smile stretched across his old, bearded face.

"And so it ends," he said. "Are you now prepared to give yourself up? Is your crusade to save your precious empress over now?"

Weakly, Serra answered, "I'm not going to give into the darkness, Dooku."

"You are misguided, Serra. But am I willing to look past that, my dear. I was once a Jedi, as you are now -- a pawn for a dying order. I found the truth, however, and left before it was too late for me. Now I have the power. I want to give you that same power, Serra."

"I don't want anything from you, Dooku. If you're going to kill me, than do it," she said, weaker, but with more edge in her voice.

"Oh, but you do. I can feel it within you, Serra. You long for more power. You long for more stature; for a greater position in the galaxy. You are confused, my dear. You doubt your own role in the cosmos and you seek to find that role," the Sith said while smiling. "You thought you could do so by killing me. You have failed. Now," a pause, "I can give you that role in the galaxy that you long for. Join me, Serra. Give into the darkness within you. You _know _you want to."

Dooku's words seemed to have struck something in Serra, if but for a second. She darted her eyes up to stare at him while she gave her reply.

"You're right," she started. "I do want more power. I do want more prestige. But I don't want it if it is going to come from betraying everyone and everything I've ever known in my entire life. No, Count Dooku, I will not give into the dark side. I will not join you."

"_We_ have ways of persuading you," he said with strong emphasis on his first word.

Dooku turned his head slightly at the sound of heavy footsteps emanating from the corridor outside the star lounge. In the doorway appeared the towering form of General Grievous, murder etched into his eyes as he locked his reptilian gaze on Serra Keto; the defeated Padawan still lay on the floor a meter from Dooku. Grievous' cape was thrown behind his shoulders and he stood at ready in his combat configuration.

"So good to see you again, General," Dooku said over his shoulder.

"Spare me any good-natured banter, Dooku. Are you going to kill her or can I?" he said, indicating Serra with a pointed claw-finger with his right hand; his left hand falling towards his collection belt.

"I am handling this one," replied the Count of Serreno. "But you may dispose of Empress Ra'all at your own discretion."

"With pleasure," Grievous said as he walked towards the injured form of Reshi Ra'all. The empress sat slumped against the wall, below the large star-gazing window. "I will make your death as painless as my patience will allow, Empress," the general hissed as he towered over her.

"Wait!" Serra shouted. Dooku and Grievous turned their heads to face her. Serra continued, "Don't kill her."

Grievous grasped Reshi with one hand and lifted her to her feet by her hair; she cried out in pain. She kicked at Grievous weakly and the Droid General released her; a clump of her long brown hair in his hand. A devilish stare crossed his yellow-black eyes and he approached her. With immense speed, Grievous wrapped his fingers around her throat and lifted her into the air, two feet off the floor. Grievous squeezed; the electro-drivers in his arms whirred with mechanical motion, generating more power as he tightened his grip. A moment later, a sickening cracking sound could be heard through the room. Grievous shook her body left to right twice to assure her death. When he was confident of it, he tossed her lifeless body across the room and she hit the floor a few meters from Sallanis and Ejin.

"Oh, I'm sorry, Jedi," Grievous stated, "I forgot you were here. Did you say something?"

Serra clenched her teeth and crawled back, away from Dooku, but still lying on the floor. With a simple squeeze of his duranium hand, General Grievous had killed the sole purpose for Serra, Ejin, and Sallanis' mission to board the Separatist flagship. He had made the injuries -- and, perhaps, deaths -- of all three in vain with one nonchalant action. What a vile, heartless fiend Grievous was…

Dooku turned his head to Serra and said, "Now have you been persuaded to see my side of the argument? Or," a fleeting glance to Sallanis and Ejin across the room, "do you require further demonstrations?"

Serra swallowed hard. A sparking thought alit in her mind and, though it defied everything her instinct and Jedi training told her of, she knew it was the only way to help her friends. She had to bargain with a Sith.

"If you allow my friends to live," she paused, swallowed again, and stumbled out: "I…I…I will join you, Dooku."

Dooku smiled; a sweeping, smug grin that reached across his face and showed his perfect teeth.

"How noble of you," Dooku said. "You are willing to trade yourself for your friends? The mark of a true hero. Your Jedi training has taught you well. Self-sacrifice, however noble, is the most foolish thing one can do. Admirable are your actions, my dear, but they betray your true self. Release yourself. You don't need your friends. You never needed them. They have always been dependant on you, Serra, I can feel it."

"Stop it," she said.

"The three of you would not have gotten this far without you, Serra. Your friends just slow you down. Allow General Grievous to kill them, Serra, and you will begin your transformation into something greater. Into something they could never comprehend."

"I said; release them. Let them go. Put them in a shuttle and fly them to a Republic ship -- anything. Just let them live. If you spare them, Dooku, I will give myself to the Sith."

"You are indeed admirable, Serra Keto. Naïve, but admirable. Consider it done," he said. "General," a pause, "send a communication to the remaining Republic capital ships. Inform them that we have two Jedi as prisoners. Place the Jedi on a shuttle and send them over to the Republic. No questions asked, no ulterior motives, and do not kill them. Am I clear, General?"

Grievous gazed narrowly, disappointedly at Dooku. "Yes, Dooku. You are clear. They will not be harmed."

"I want to see proof of this. I want to be in the hanger when you send them off," Serra demanded, rising to her feet to stand near Dooku.

"Very well," Dooku said. "I will escort you there personally. You will witness your friends depart -- unharmed -- and then you will cast off your old life to be reborn."


	11. Chapter XI

**Chapter XI **

General Grievous signaled a quartet of battle droids to enter. The sinewy android soldiers came through the open doorway, blasters raised. A command droid, denoted by its yellow shoulder and shoulder markings, lead the pack of four. It reached Grievous and turned its head to speak to the Droid General.

"Where should we dispose of them, General?"

Grievous hesitated and glanced at Dooku with a shift of his yellow and black eyes, obviously disgruntled by the order to spare the lives of the two Jedi.

"Take them," he paused, "to the hanger."

"General?" inquired the droid commander.

"Do not hurt them," Grievous spit out the words with a particular level of vile distaste.

"Yes, General," it said. "Pick them up. Bring them to the hanger."

Across the room, Dooku turned to Serra Keto and smiled. "Now, now, don't look so sorrowful. You have done a noble deed for your friends. Master Yoda would be pleased."

"That's a lie," Serra snapped. "I have done nothing noble by surrendering myself to the Sith. You won't even spare my friends."

"As promised, I shall. I am a man of my word, Serra. You can hold me to that."

"Your word means nothing!" she screamed. "You're a Sith! You make your living off death, mayhem, and oppression. You seek to destroy the Republic and install an empire. I hate you and I hope you die!"

Dooku laughed. "In time, my dear, you will unlearn what you have learned. You will come to realize that all of what the Jedi has taught you is but a myth. I can hardly blame you, though. You have been indoctrinated with falsehoods since birth. It may take time to show you the truth, but it will come to you."

"You have nothing that I want to hear, Dooku," Serra stated.

The Sith Lord frowned. "I see. Come along, now Serra. If you wish to see your friends leave alive, that is. I can, in theory, still order the good general to dispatch them as he eliminated Empress Ra'all."

"You would be going back on your word, Dooku. So much for being a man of convictions and one for keeping promises."

"Oh, I entirely intend to live up to my promise to you, Serra. Your friends will go unharmed and they will leave this vessel to be placed in the hands of your Republic fleet."

General Grievous led the group of droids and the two injured Jedi -- Ejin weakly moving; Sallanis still unconscious -- out of the room. Serra walked slowly after them, Dooku at her heels. IG-102, the remaining MagnaGuard in the room, exited last. Through winding corridors, stairs, and elevators, they eventually made their way to the main hanger bay of _Invisible Hand_. In the hanger bay sat the three Jedi Starfighters; Serra's still leaking out black smoke. A medium-sized CIS L-71, a shuttle produced by the InterGalactic Banking Clan and often used by the Separatist leadership.

"Contact the Republic flagship," Grievous barked out to the lead droid.

"Yes, General," was the response.

The droid _clinked_ its way over to a control setup mounted to the wall near a set of dura-steel stairs that they climbed down to enter the hanger. It entered the frequency for the Republic flagship, _Gallantry_, and within moments the fluttering blued image of a young male Republic officer appeared. His gray uniform was immaculate, but his face was weary. He was obviously affected by the chaos of the space battle.

"General," he said. "I am Colonel Maximilian Veers of the Republic Navy. To what do we owe this displeasure of your appearance in our command bridge?"

"Silence," a pause, "or be_ silenced_," Grievous said. "As you can see, I hold two of your Jedi captive."

"Their names, please," Colonel Veers requested.

Grievous couldn't believe the audacity of the young officer. "Ejin Zalo and Sallanis Morné." He pointed a bone white duranium finger to the droids that held Ejin and Sallanis standing upright, their icy grips firmly around the two Jedi's upper arms.

"He is wounded; she appears dead."

"He has but a flesh wound. She is merely unconscious."

"What do you suggest, General Grievous?" asked Veers.

"A transfer. We are boarding them to a shuttle and sending them over to your flagship."

Veers looked suspicious. "Why would you do this? You're notorious for killing Jedi, not sparing them."

"Do not question my reasons lest I kill them before your eyes," Grievous snapped. "Now, Colonel," a slight pause, "do you or do you not approve of such a transfer?" Veers nodded. "Good," Grievous continued. "They will be departing immediately."

"Grievous," Veers said, "if this is a joke or a ploy, we will--."

"You are not in the position to be making threats," he said. "However, if you fail with your side of the agreement, I will open fire on the shuttle and destroy it."

Veers swallowed hard. "I see. What is the status of the Empress of Mesna Tal, Reshi Ra'all?"

Grievous blinked. "She is dead."

Veers' lips tightened into a thin line and he said slowly, "I'm sorry to hear that. On behalf of the people of Mesna Tal, would you please take the time to deliver us her body?"

"Your request is denied," Grievous said with particular malice.

"She deserves a proper funeral, General. Even a monster like you can recognize that."

"Oh, but Colonel, she'll receive a proper funeral," a pause, "in the black emptiness of space. Perhaps you'll see her corpse tumbling through the infinity all around you. She'll provide some momentary amusement for our Neimoidian gunners."

"You are a sick, savage being, Grievous," Veers said.

A smile slipped on Grievous' snake-like eyes. "I know. General Grievous out."

He signaled the battle droid commander and the droid cut the transmission. The image of Veers wavered and vanished. Grievous turned to face Serra and Dooku. Dooku spoke first.

"Then it is done. You see, Serra, I am a man of my word. Let us go now to start your new training."

"No," she said. "I want complete verification that they are going to be off this ship alive and okay. I'm not leaving here until they're safely onboard the Republic flagship."

Dooku's face flashed with frustration, but he quickly collected himself. "Fair enough. Load them onboard and jettison them off on their way, General."

"Yes, my lord," Grievous said with a distinct level of distaste. "Place them aboard and start the engines," he ordered the droids.

Serra watched on with a heavy heart. The droids led her friends up the ship's landing ramp and placed them inside. A sickening feeling -- the same feeling she began to feel creep into her when Dooku had defeated her -- sunk into her fully, consuming her in its entirety. She knew that the sulking feeling within was her conscience speaking to her. She had just betrayed everything she had known and learned from the tender ages of her early childhood. She could recall times in the Jedi Temple when she merely a little girl, nearly as short as Yoda, filled with a curious spark for life. She could remember old lessons learned long ago, taught to her by Master Frask and other Jedi. With one sweeping action, she had betrayed them all.

Serra shook her head in disappointment for her own self. She felt as though she was going back on all that her master had told her of, had taught her. She had betrayed not only the Jedi, but the light side of the Force. By giving into the Sith's request, she had made herself no better than Dooku or the rumored, shadowy Darth Sidious…

She gave a glance at Dooku and sighed softly to herself. How could she have been so foolish? Dooku was right: giving herself up for her friends was an admirable action, but impeccably naïve. Such a stupid move, she thought. There, a flash of hope for her and her ruined self-image came into her vision. She saw something new; a new action she could take. She had not committed herself to the dark side. She had not fallen. She was not yet a Sith! Affirmed in her heart, she knew she could still save her friends and herself. Her time was running out quickly and she had to act fast.

She shot her eyes down to her lightsaber hilts to make sure they were still hitched to her belt and they indeed were. How foolish Dooku was to give her back her lightsabers. How foolish…

Serra sprung into action, her lightsabers flashing alive and spinning outward in two wide, sweeping arcs that cleaved off the limbs off two battle droids. She moved fast to slash down the other two. More droids, already in the hanger, turned and fired on her. With fluid moves and graceful skill, she deflected the bolts back at their shooters.

Dooku was taken aback by her sudden move. He had not seen this coming. His hand fell to the curved hilt on his belt, but he did not draw his weapon. Not yet, at least. He would wait to see how this situation played itself out. General Grievous, on the other hand, already ignited two lightsabers and leaped forward with the full intent of killing Serra. From behind Dooku, IG-102 lit its electro-staff and advanced. Serra and Grievous exchanged a fast series of blows and strikes before she flung a large dura-steel crate at Grievous. He moved and slashed it apart with his weapons. The move bought Serra a crucial five seconds. She used that brief period to leap aboard the L-71; the shuttle was already rising into the air with its landing ramp slowly closing shut.

"Stop them!" Grievous shouted. "Blast that shuttle apart!"

Dooku waved a hand. "No, don't. Serra Keto is too vital a potential ally for me to lose. Send droid fighters, but do not destroy that shuttle."

Grievous snarled at Dooku, a low rumbling growl came from his synthesized vocabulator.

"Damn it, Dooku!" Dooku's stern gaze met the fire in Grievous' eyes. Grievous knew what that look meant. "Fine," was all that General Grievous would allow. "Dispatch Vulture fighters to pursue them. Activate the tractor beam and reel them back in."

"Yes, General," a droid replied.


	12. Chapter XII

**Chapter XII**

Serra Keto slashed apart the two pilot droids of the L-71 Separatist shuttle. She cleared the remains of the destroyed droids from their chairs and sat in the lead chair. She scanned her eyes over the controls of the ship and tried to familiarize herself with the craft. She had never flown a shuttle such as this, but the basic skills of piloting a craft of any type was the same.

"Can you fly this?" Ejin Zalo asked Serra weakly.

"Oh, of course," she said with a smirk. "How is Sallanis?"

Ejin leaned back and placed his only hand on the unmoving form of Sallanis Morné. She had been laid down on a sleep-couch; Ejin was amazed that the droids had the generosity to even do that for the poor girl. Ejin reason she had sustained rather severe trauma to be unconscious still after all this time. They had to bring her to a med-center before it was too late. He turned an eye towards his maimed wrist; tunic and skin, alike, were scorched black. Disgusted at even the sight of his injury, Ejin turned away, breathing words of revenge against Count Dooku under his breath.

"She's stable, but she's still out light a bad glow-light. We have to get back to Coruscant."

"That's not going to happen," she said. "At least not in this shuttle," she added.

"Where are you taking us then?" Ejin asked with a hint of worry in his voice.

Serra pushed a few buttons and gestured for him to look at the display monitor. She pointed her index finger to the star map to a system of planets.

"This is the Weshni-Nesh system," she said. "Look," a pause, "here's Devile and the Seven Moons of Rorer. Here's Karkaan, our destination. Well, the Healer's Moon is our actual target, but you get the idea."

"Karkaan," Ejin said with uncertainty. "I'm not familiar with it."

"We'll be bringing Sallanis to the Healer's Moon of Karkaan. It's small and out of the way. It's also under our control. The Seppers wouldn't dare enter."

"Why not?" he asked. "You know how Grievous is. He doesn't care about the odds of winning. He'll take any planet he wants if he really tries."

"There's only a brigade or so of our troops there," she said. "But the fear of the entire Mid-Rim fleet crashing down on Grievous should be enough to keep him from trying an invasion."

They both knew what she meant by addressing the Mid-Rim fleet. It wasn't so much the fact the size of the fleet that she was emphasizing; it was the fleet's present commanders. Skywalker and Kenobi. Serra doubted that Grievous had any intentions of taking on the entire fleet, especially when it was led by the two most famous Jedi Knights in the Republic. Even Grievous must have some level of fear for encountering them…

Serra's arrogance punched her in the face again. She felt like screaming out in anguish at the thought of Anakin Skywalker and his hero status. She recalled what Dooku had told her. Serra knew she had ruined her chance to kick Anakin from his high seat of glory by not killing Dooku. She had become so obsessed with the idea of slaying the Separatist leader that she had forgotten that it was not her place to be jealous of another Jedi. But Serra didn't see herself as jealous of Anakin's abilities. She knew that she was just as skilled as Skywalker. No, it was not his abilities she longed for; it was his status. Anakin was not only the most famous Jedi in the Order, he was also a Jedi Knight. Serra had been denied both such titles: the first by her own faults in her failed attempt to kill Dooku and the second was a problem she blamed the Jedi Council for creating. It was, after all, the Jedi Council who appointed Padawans as Knights. Why had Anakin been so important that the Council had deemed him to be a Knight before Serra?

Obi-Wan Kenobi.

Serra sneered. Obi-Wan had been Anakin's mentor. It was only logical, to Serra, to believe that Kenobi had influenced the Jedi Council enough to grant Anakin the rank of Jedi Knight. Such political maneuvering disgusted Serra. She loathed the idea that a Jedi could persuade others to get his or her way. Anakin Skywalker was no different than Serra Keto; she knew this with all of her heart. Serra often argued with herself about the prophecy of the Chosen One and how Anakin didn't fit the role. The Chosen One was supposed to destroy the Sith; Anakin hadn't. In his attempt to kill Count Dooku back at the beginning of the Clone Wars, Anakin had lost rather miserably -- or so Serra liked to believe -- and Dooku had claimed his arm just as he had Ejin's. It was only when Master Yoda arrived that Anakin and Obi-Wan were saved and Dooku was forced to flee.

"Serra," Ejin's voice snapped her from her thoughts.

"Yeah?" she asked rather unconsciously.

"They've scrambled fighters!" he exclaimed and pointed with his hand at the sight of a squad of Vulture fighters exiting the Trade Federation's flagship and chasing after them, spewing deadly blaster fire as they raced through space.

"Damn it!" Serra shouted. "Doesn't this thing have any weapon systems?"

Blaster bolts struck the side of the L-71, pock-marking the ship and setting of warning alarms throughout the cockpit. Behind Serra and Ejin, Sallanis slowly stirred awake. She raised an arm and placed it on Ejin's shoulder; he nearly leaped in surprise.

"What's going on?" she asked wearily.

"We're getting out of here," Serra said. "Ejin, figure out how to jump to hyperspace."

"What?" the word dripped with astonishment; Serra didn't know how to fly the ship.

"Just do it!"

Ejin punched buttons frantically with his lone hand, drawing up various images on the display monitor. First a star map appeared and then a dialing frequency for a holotransmission scrolled on the screen. He pressed more buttons. A schematic of the ship glowed on the screen.

"This isn't working," he said.

"Stars and galaxies," Serra murmured. "Do I have to do everything?"

Serra held onto the control stick with her left hand while she tried to activate a jump to hyperspace with her right. More screens appeared; images of various worlds that she recognized.

"Whoa," she let out with slight amazement. "I think these are battle plans."

"You think?"

"They look like it. I can't read the encrypted lines, though. This one looks like the Kashyyyk system," she said and clicked the button again; the screen shifted to a new planet. "Rhen Var," she added upon seeing the new image on the screen.

"We don't have time for this right now," Ejin said. "Just figure out how to jump to hyperspace."

She pressed more buttons until she received a prompt on the display monitor, asking her for exiting coordinates of a leap to hyperspace. Excited, Serra entered the coordinate location for the Healer's Moon. The computer processed her input and, in an instant, the hyperdrive generator threw the ship into hyperspace. All the stars became thin white lines that raced by the ship at immense speed. The Vulture fighters were gone as quick as they had arrived. The L-71 raced away, carrying the three Jedi aboard it.


	13. Chapter XIII

**Chapter XIII**

General Grievous crushed the skull of the Neimoidian colonel that informed them of the Jedi's jump to hyperspace with one hand. With a simple motion of his duranium arm, he tossed the lifeless soldier to the floor and turned to face the looks of a frightened crew. He pointed a boney claw, dripping in green brain-matter, to a Neimoidian lieutenant and signaled him to come to him. Terrified of even moving, the Neimoidian didn't react for a few seconds. When Grievous' eyes narrowed, the lieutenant practically ran to his leader. He started to say something, but fear drove the words away from him and his statement was a garbled series of unintelligible noises.

"Congratulations, _Colonel_ Dastiz," Grievous said to the former lieutenant. "I would hope that you have good news to report."

Numbly, the newly promoted Neimoidian said, "Yes, General. We were, ah, able to, ah, locate the destination of the, ah, fleeing ship."

"Where are they exiting?" asked Grievous.

"We believe, judging by the, ah, trajectory of their jump, that they will exit in the Weshni-Nesh system, General," Colonel Rack Dastiz said.

Grievous did not reply. He did not need to. What he needed was an audience with Darth Sidious. The dark lord would know what to do next as Grievous did not trust Dooku's insight on the matter of finding the runaway Jedi. Grievous would speak with Sidious and heed whatever his instructions were to be. If Sidious requested he pursue the Jedi, Grievous would do so without question. Personally, Grievous hoped that Lord Sidious would instruct them to follow the Jedi. He longed for revenge at Serra Keto. While she hadn't actually hurt him in their duel, she had dealt a blow to his reputation. Grievous' pride was the only thing had been harmed in their fight. Not only had the Jedi overpowered him, they had escaped his wrath.

That was Dooku's fault, no doubt. Grievous was growing rather tired of Dooku's meddling and intervention into his plans. He rather hoped for the day that Darth Sidious would order him to kill Dooku when he was no longer needed. The sooner the day of Dooku's death came, the better for Grievous. Once Dooku was dead, Grievous would take his place as Sidious' most important associate. Sidious wouldn't have time, Grievous thought, to find and train a new apprentice to replace Dooku. Maybe that day would come eventually, though Grievous was certain he could handle the arrival of any apprentice Darth Sidious could find.

* * *

The L-71 rocked gently as it as exited hyperspace and entered the Weshni-Nesh system; the various moons of Karkaan lay straight ahead of them. Serra Keto turned her head to face Ejin. She smiled; an honest and genuine display of her feelings. For the first time all day, she was finally happy. Was it happiness, though? Was it relief? Relief that they had actually managed to escape from the Separatist flagship and the clutches of General Grievous and Count Dooku? Truly, Serra, Ejin, and Sallanis had been blessed by some merciful act of the Force that allowed them to escape with their lives. 

Serra smiled, her ego once more getting the better of her. She knew that Dooku had been right -- they would not have gone as far as they had. Serra was aware that she possessed more skill than Ejin or Sallanis; perhaps even more than the two of them combined. They were average Jedi, in her eyes; accomplished and skilled, but nothing abnormal. Serra's heart told her that she, however, was an exception to the average Jedi. She had a greater role to fill and she could have filled it had she killed Count Dooku.

But she didn't.

There was it; as plain as it could be stated. Serra Keto could have become the most famous Jedi in the history of the Order. But she didn't. She could have destroyed the Sith Lord, Count Dooku and toppled the Confederacy of Independent Systems at the same time. But she didn't. Single-handedly, she could have won the Clone Wars and brought peace to the war-torn galaxy. But she didn't. She could have been promoted from Jedi Padawan to Jedi Master and given a spot on the Council. But she didn't.

Three simple words that had a profound effect on Serra; suddenly, she was now inadequate of being the Jedi she knew she was. She could no longer see herself as the girl with great potential, with such polished skills, and one with a powerful command of the Force. That was how Master Frask had described her. Because of her failure to kill Count Dooku and take her place as the most celebrated Jedi in the Republic, Serra felt as though she had failed to live up to her late master's praise. She was not worthy of such acclamations.

"Ejin," Serra asked, her voice quiet as the ship sailed towards the Healer's Moon; a blue-green glowing swirl in the distance.

He turned. "Serra?"

"Do you think I'm any less of a Jedi for what I did? You know; how I handled my failure with Dooku."

Ejin opened his mouth to speak, but quickly closed it to think. Slowly, deliberately, he replied, "Serra, you can't blame yourself for what happened. You are not at fault. Sallanis and I were both injured. You did what you had to help us. That shows the mark of true devotion. You held others above yourself--."

"I sold out my friends!" she interrupted.

"No you didn't. You saved us," he stated.

"I made a pact with the Sith, Ejin."

"You did so to save our lives," his voice was more forceful now and carried a distinct message; an intention to stop the argument then and there.

"I spoke words that a Jedi should never," she paused. "Jedi," another pause, "I'm not even worthy of being called that."

"Stop that," Sallanis said. "You did what you had to. You put your own needs and desires below those of your friends. You did not betray the Jedi Order or your commitment to it."

"I told Count Dooku that I would join his side. I said that. I pledged my loyalty to a Sith Lord!" Serra exclaimed.

"But you did not mean it!" Ejin raised his voice. Softer, he said, "Your words meant nothing. What you said; what you did -- it was all for us. Do not blame yourself for Empress Ra'all's death, either. You could do nothing to stop it. I will not have one of the greatest friends I've ever had the distinction of knowing in my life accuse and blame herself for something she had no control over."

Her words had an effect on Serra and dredged up prior memories, long suppressed and buried in the farthest reaches of her mind. Images from what seemed like ages ago flashed past her eyes. Thoughts that she knew she was not allowed -- as a Jedi -- to think of. Pictures of Ejin were most prominent in these long-lost memories. Ejin and ideas -- actions, even -- that were in direction violation of the Jedi Order. She recalled with a faint smile the words they had said to one another. How young and foolish they had been. How utterly naïve they were. She glanced over to him and the mental images resonated through her mind. Forgotten memories of Ejin and herself running through the corridors of the Jedi Temple as mere children, no older than five, ran through Serra and held dominance her thoughts.

"Do you remember," she began softly, "when we were just kids and we ran through the Temple and knocked over a bust of Revan in the library? You were chasing me because you said I stole your jama juice. I squealed like a nexu caught in a leg trap the entire time we were running. I round a corner and tripped," a wide smile spread on her face, "and smash! I went flying head first into the bust of Revan."

Ejin, too, was smiling fondly at the memory. "I remember it all," he stated. "As I recall, we got quite a lecture for that. In retrospect, you'd never think of Master Yoda as scary. But to a five year old, he's about as frightening as any monster. Or, at least, when he's disciplining a student."

Sallanis added, "Stars' end; you were no different as kids than you are now."

"Oh," Serra said with a subtle smile, "there have been some slight changes since then and now."

Just then, voice cut in on the comlink; a clone voice, to be precise.

"Unknown shuttle; identify yourself. Your present heading has you on pace to the Healer's Moon. Identify or be destroyed."

Ejin raised an eyebrow. "They're not kidding, are they?"

Serra said into the comlink, "This is Jedi," a pause with significant difficulty in saying the next word, "apprentice," a brief second, "Serra Keto. With me are Ejin Zalo and Sallanis Morné. We request immediate permission to land. We are in need of medical attention."

"Lieutenant Keto?" the clone said with a hint of surprise. "You're a little far from Mesna Tal, aren't you?"

"You could say that. We'll give you a full briefing when we've landed and been taken care medically. Both Ejin and Sallanis are injured."

Sallanis asked, "Are there any other Jedi on the Healer's Moon?"

The trooper answered, "Yes, Lieutenant Morné. Commander Deshtok Or'la and Lieutenant Kysslik-Tyyes Faanu are both present here."

"Good," Serra said. "We're coming in."

"I'll have a med-team ready and waiting. You're clear to dock at bay four."


	14. Chapter XIV

**Chapter XIV**

The shuttle slowly descended through the misty atmosphere of the Healer's Moon. The planet of Karkaan was a yellow-orange gas giant, surrounded by orbital rings of gas and rock. The Healer's Moon, also known as Karkaan Three, was home to the Republic command center for the system. Oceans and jungles covered most of the Healer's Moon, save for the only major city of Cixlepi. Primitive in its appearance, Cixlepi was relatively small in size and was home to fewer than twenty thousand citizens. The Republic's outpost, known officially as Post 924 and also in the system as the Jeweled Fort for its Coruscanti architecture, housed the two hundred sixteenth infantry brigade; a group of approximately eight hundred clonetroopers lived within the barracks of the Jeweled Fort.

Post 924 was itself, a very impressive structure. The walls were one-way mirrors, allowing all within the building to peer outward, but none could see in from within. The main structure was a large four story dome, supported by a spider web of dura-steel framework. Four six story spires surrounded the dome, one at each corner. A large hanger bay was housed beneath the dome that was capable holding a small fleet of starfighters and larger shuttles, transports, and cargo cruisers. An additional bay, away from the structure, served to house the Republic's formidable _Venator_-class Star Destroyers. Only one such of the massive vessels was docked there at this time.

As the shuttle's engines begin to auto-cool, Serra Keto walked down the exit ramp, signaling the med-team to approach. Ejin Zalo and Sallanis Morné exited the L-71 shuttle on their own power, but they quickly began their treatment by the med-team. Two clone medics, distinguishable by the markings on their armor, led Ejin off, indicating that they would deal with his severed hand. Another duo of medics beckoned Sallanis to follow them, but she declined their request.

"Lieutenant Morné, I implore you," the clone said. "You need treatment. At least allow us--."

"I said no," she replied.

"Lieutenant," he said, a bit of bite in his tone, "please let us help you."

Sallanis threw her arms up in a defeated gesture and said, "Fine, but if you so much as touch me, I'll..." her voice trailed off as she caught a curious glare from Serra. She paused, turned back to the clone medic, and added with a forced smile, "I'll thank you. Now, fix me up."

Serra watched as they escorted her friends away through separate doors. She allowed herself to take in the full presence of her surroundings. The inside of the Jeweled Fort were just as magnificent as the exterior. Clonetroopers walked in small squads throughout the hanger bay; their white armor reflecting the glowing lights that hung overhead. Banks of lights lined the ceiling, pouring down brightness to the entire hanger. The hanger was most impressive, she noted.

Through a side entrance, she noticed the moving form of two Jedi. She turned to see the advancing master and apprentice duo, Deshtok Or'la and Kysslik-Tyyes Faanu, respectively. Serra had only briefly known of Deshtok, but she had heard of the Jedi Knight's remarkable escapades in the Muuky system. According to rumors, Deshtok and his Padawan had infiltrated a Separatist bunker without being detected and had come incredibly close to capturing Poggle the Lesser, Archduke of Geonosis and member of the Separatist Council.

Deshtok was a Falleen male of sixty-four years in age. Falleens, a reptilian humanoid species, were most noted for their scaly emerald skin which changed color according to their emotional mood. Serra had long heard of Deshtok's grace with a lightsaber and had come to know him as a quiet, reserved Jedi with a powerful mastery of the Force. His deep brown tunic and flowing chocolate hooded cloak contrasted uniquely with his skin color. Black hair fell to the middle of his back and was streaked with shades of gray. A silver-black lightsaber hilt hung from his belt, concealed mostly by his cloak.

His Padawan apprentice, however, was rather well known by Serra as someone she did not hold a favorable opinion of. Kysslik-Tyyes, in Serra's eyes, had always been the one to compete with her throughout her career as a Jedi. Wherever Serra fell short, Kysslik-Tyyes managed to be there, taunting her into doing better. What would have been described by most Jedi as simply competition amongst eager students had developed into an intense personal rivalry and, rather bluntly: a stern dislike for one another. They avoided coming in contact with each other under most circumstances, but the Clone Wars had brought them together once already.

Serra recalled a trip to the war-ravaged planet of Tration with her late mentor. There, she and Sy-Sen Frask had teamed with Deshtok and Kysslik-Tyyes to evacuate civilians who had been encircled by Separatist forces. In the chaos of the conflict, Serra and Kysslik-Tyyes had become separated from their masters. The two rivals had been forced to work together to survive. After that had transpired, Serra had assumed that her relationship with Kysslik-Tyyes had changed to accommodate their battlefield camaraderie. However, she soon found herself being snubbed by her rival and realized that things would never change between them.

A twenty year-old human woman of impressive physical and mental strength, Kysslik-Tyyes Faanu was a powerful student of the Force and a well-honed duelist. Her master had taught her well in the arts of the lightsaber and Serra could not argue that. Kysslik-Tyyes' shoulder-length blond hair was splashed with violet highlights and tied in a ponytail with a black ribbon. A creamy white tunic and skirt fell over light brown pants, deep maroon boots, rounded jaw, pale complexion, and blue eyes completed her appearance.

Deshtok spoke first when he and his apprentice finished walking to Serra and stopped only a meter from her. He looked at her with a curious interest before bowing to her. Grudgingly, Kysslik-Tyyes did the same.

"Greetings and salutations, Serra Keto."

She bowed and said, "Hello, Master Or'la."

"Serra," he began, "we wish to hear of the results of the mission on Mesna Tal. Why have you come here? Do you seek assistance? I sense that something terrible has happened to Empress Ra'all. Please, settle my old mind by giving me good news on her."

Serra swallowed hard. "That," she said, choosing her words carefully, "I cannot do, Master Or'la. General Grievous launched an attack on the Imperial Palace and captured Reshi Ra'all."

"Oh my," was all that Deshtok could say.

Serra continued, "Ejin, Sallanis, and myself had been assigned, as you know, to protect the Republic base and, by extension, Empress Ra'all. When we learned of the kidnapping raid, we scrambled to the palace, but we were too late. Ejin fought briefly with Grievous before the monster nearly killed him. We took to our starfighters and entered the space battle with a plan to rescue her. We boarded the Separatists' flagship and--."

"You boarded Grievous' command ship?" Kysslik-Tyyes interrupted with a either surprise or doubt in her tone.

"Yes," she said while nodding her head. "We landed in the hanger bay and fought our way to the upper levels of the ship. Eventually, we attracted Grievous' attention. He and two of his droid bodyguards attacked us. Ejin sustained some internal injuries, but together, Sallanis and I were able to overpower Grievous and we defeated him."

"You killed General Grievous?" Kysslik-Tyyes' eyes lit up in frustration, anger, and amazement at the conclusion she had jumped to.

"No. I thought we had, but he returned later when we found Empress Ra'all in a star-lounge. There," a pause, "Dooku found us. He made short work of my friends and soon defeated me. I made a bargain with Dooku to release them, but kill me. He agreed. When we went to the hanger, we managed to escape by stealing a Separatist shuttle. We came here because this is the closest Republic outpost and Ejin and Sallanis needed medical help," she explained.

"An impressive series of events you three have endured," Deshtok said. "Tell me, what happened to Master Syther and Master Kinn?"

Uncertain, Serra said, "We don't know. We lost contact with them during the raid on the palace. Ejin believes that Master Kinn is still alive, but Sallanis is being her usual pessimistic self and presumes the worst. We were hoping we could establish communication with them from here."

"That will be arranged immediately," Deshtok said. "Come, let us do so now."

The three of them walked away from the hanger and entered an elevator. Soon after, they found themselves in spacious surroundings of a communications room. Clone technicians and communications specialists sat at computer displays and watched various read-outs on more than thirty separate monitors. A large circular holo-table sat in the center of the room, displaying the Jeweled Fort in entirety and its surroundings. A clone approached them as soon as he saw that they had entered.

"Can I help you with something, Commander Or'la?"

"Yes," he said. "We need to make immediate contact with two Jedi on Mesna Tal."

"We can do that," he said as he sat down at a computer. "Their names?"

"Veroon Kinn and Xenos Syther."

The clone typed in the names. The computer cycled through a database of frequencies until it found theirs and dispatched a signal to the holo-transceiver. Moments later, the fluttering image of Jedi Knight Xenos Syther appeared before them. His hood was on his head and his lightsaber was inactivated, but in his hand.

"Master Syther!" Serra said with surprise. "Where is Master Kinn?"

Xenos remained silent for a moment before speaking. Slowly, he stated, "Serra, you must tell Ejin that his master is now one with the Force."

The words came to Serra's ears like thunder, drowning out everything that Xenos said afterward and making her mind spin. Ejin, like Serra, had lost his mentor to the Separatists. She could not find words to express her feelings…

"Serra?" the hologram asked. "Are you okay?"

She shook her head, trying to draw herself back into the conversation.

"Yes, Master Syther. I am saddened by this news."

"As am I," Deshtok said. "Master Kinn was a powerful Jedi and a good friend. He will be surely missed."

"Was it Grievous?" Serra asked.

Xenos said, "He intercepted the Separatist landing ship that carried Grievous to the palace. I had been elsewhere at the time, helping the defense perimeter. When I found Kinn's body, I knew the wounds he had received had been caused by a lightsaber. His own weapon was missing. It is not unreasonable then to infer that Master Kinn fell victim to General Grievous."

Serra swelled with anger. Brashly, she snapped, "Why didn't you do anything to stop it? Why weren't you there?"

Xenos sighed mournfully. "I wish I had been. A part of me blames myself for his death."

"How could you do this?" she shouted. "How could you do this to Ejin?"

"Serra, please," Deshtok said. "There was little Master Syther could have done to prevent his death--."

"He should have done more! A good man is now dead and his student will be crushed by the news."

"Why didn't you do anything to stop Master Frask from dying, Serra?" Kysslik-Tyyes' words cut like deeper than any lightsaber could. She continued: "A good man died and you did nothing to prevent it, Serra."

"Both of you, stop it," Deshtok ordered. "Neither Serra nor Xenos are responsible for those deaths. There was nothing that could be done in either situation," he turned to the hologram and asked, "Master Syther, how has the battle progressed?"

"We have the Separatists beaten and falling back here on the ground, but I fear for a victory in space. Something has changed in the Separatists' attack patterns, though. They're no longer as aggressive as they had been at the onset of the battle. At any rate, I will regain contact with you all at a later time. We still have a battle to win."

"May the Force be with you," Deshtok said.

"And you, too," Xenos replied as the hologram cut out and vanished.

Deshtok turned to Serra. "You have much to learn, young one, and no one to teach it to you."


	15. Chapter XV

**Chapter XV**

Bright lights shown down from their fixtures in the room; Ejin Zalo stared at the ceiling. From his position on a med-couch, he could feel the anesthetics beginning to lose their effect. A tingling feeling surged through his right arm and he chanced a glance at the operation. A medical droid, being supervised by a clone field surgeon and an entourage of medical associates, both droid and clone, stood beside it and around the table. The droid fitted final touches to the electro-drivers with a flash of sparks from a fusion-torch. Ejin blinked and tried to pry open his weary eyes; blurred by the power of the drugs he had been administered. What he saw was a sight that made him more than uneasy. Fused to his forearm was a silver robotic hand. The prosthetic limb, a creation of medical genius, was connected to the scorched wrist; the wound he had received at the hands of Count Dooku. Nerves had been rerouted and the young Jedi finally had a new hand.

"Lieutenant Zalo," the clone surgeon said. "Can you hear me?"

He nodded his head slowly and looked up at the clone; a younger Jango Fett peered back at him.

"Can you hear me?" he repeated.

"Yes," Ejin said. "I can hear you just fine."

"Move your fingers, Lieutenant Zalo. We need to see if the results of the surgery were successful."

As if he hadn't even done so in his entire life, Ejin bent four fingers on his new right hand, touching the metal tips of his sinewy fake fingers to the metal palm of his fake hand. He moved his thumb soon after and clenched his hand into a fist. Smiling curiously, he sat up and gazed at his artificial hand. No longer did he see the sight of his former hand. Rather, what he witnessed was the impersonal and inhuman replacement he had been given -- permanently fused to his arm.

"This is going to take some time to get used to, I would imagine," the clone stated. "We can offer you rehabilitation and physical therapy, if you would like."

Ejin shook his head. "I'll conduct my own rehabilitation and physical therapy, mind you. I'm more than capable of doing things for myself."

"Yes, Lieutenant."

Ejin sat up and climbed off the med-table. Without saying another word to either the clones or the droids in the room, he exited through the door and made his way down an unfamiliar hallway. It curiously reminded him of one of the many such corridors in the Jedi Temple. Ejin sighed. He was homesick. While he was enjoying being off on various sundry exotic worlds -- locations he had dreamed of as a child, but never believed he would ever see -- he was tired of being away from Coruscant, his home. Moreover, on a greater level, he was sick of the war.

Ejin shook his head, trying to clear his mind. He couldn't get the picture of Reshi Ra'all's death out of his mind. He had watched every second of the heinous act that General Grievous had committed and him, Serra, and Sallanis had all been powerless to stop it. More mental images soon came; terrifying visions of his experiences in the three years of the conflict. He was sick of fighting. Another point bothered him greatly: they could have ended this senseless war. Had they killed Dooku, all of the fighting, Ejin reasoned, would have stopped. The Separatist cause would have died and they would have returned to the Republic, either by surrender or continued military force.

He didn't blame himself nor did he blame his friends. He couldn't. They had simply tried to rescue Empress Ra'all. They had failed and she had been brutally killed. Another glance came to his mechanical hand. He couldn't get over the sight of the wiry silver dura-steel _attachment _on his right wrist. Then, as if by a unique turn of chance, his eyes caught sight of a separate _attachment_ in his life. Standing in the open doorway at the end of the hallway was Serra Keto. She slowly approached him and her gaze immediately centered on his new hand.

"Oh my," was all that she said as she walked up to him.

"It's a little new," Ejin said with a small smile. "Like it?"

"Are you trying to become Anakin Skywalker or what?" she joked.

"Why? Does that impress you?" he replied.

"Now you're teasing me," she said. "And besides," a nervous pause for a brief second, "you don't need to impress me. Your actions today have done far enough to accomplish that."

Ejin shook his head. "I didn't do anything. I nearly cost us all our lives."

"Without you, Sallanis and I would not have lived through Grievous. Don't be so modest, Ejin. You saved our lives."

"Hey now," he said. "Don't give me that. You saved our lives, Serra. We would have died had you not made your fake bargain with Dooku."

"You know I don't want to talk about that, Ejin," she said. "I don't want to remember that I said those words to Count Dooku."

"What words?" came the familiar, yet unfortunate -- to Serra, at least -- sound of Kysslik-Tyyes Faanu's voice as she walked up from behind Serra, through the same door she had entered.

"Is there a leash from me to you or do you just love following me?" Serra said bitterly.

"Now, now," Kysslik-Tyyes began, "don't start with me, Serra Keto. But," a pause, "tell me what you're talking about. You had a conversation with Dooku?"

"It's none of your business," Serra said.

"I'm making it my business."

"It really _is_ none of your business, Kysslik-Tyyes," Ejin stated.

She rolled her eyes. "Don't talk to me like, cyborg. But I seem to have forgotten that you guys are always together."

Serra narrowed her eyes on her adversary and said, "Don't you dare go there. That's none of your Sith-spitting business, either. Just go away."

"Oh come now," Kysslik-Tyyes said. "I remember it just as well as you do. You're both very lucky you got away without being kicked out of the Order."

"Do you strive to be this annoying or does it just come to you naturally?" asked Ejin.

"I'm just reminiscing of old times long ago. That's all behind both of you now. That was five years ago; you were just kids then. You didn't know better," she said with a false smile and a deeper, subtly hidden agenda that both Serra and Ejin could detect; she was baiting them.

"Just leave us alone, okay?" Serra snapped.

Kysslik-Tyyes smiled. "Why, so you can play catch-up on old experiences?"

"Shut up, Kysslik-Tyyes," said Ejin angrily.

Serra was suddenly brought back to memories of her teenage years. She recalled times long past of her and Ejin, alone, in the Temple -- times where they said words they, as Jedi, were not allowed to say; times where they, as Jedi, did things they were not allowed to do. Serra since thought that those feelings and memories had been purged from her mind, but she knew that telling her mind that was nothing more than lying to herself; they could not hide from their feelings and from their past. She remembered instances where they had snuck away and hid simply so they could be together.

And, of course, she recalled the first time they hadkissed. The way they had approached one another as only fifteen year-old children could. Clumsy and foolish, but with the highest degree of innocence and compassion two could muster to show each other. Such a subtle, yet passionate embrace they had shared so many years ago. After that first encounter, they had repeated such actions numerous occasions afterwards. That is, until they were discovered. What fools they had been; such naïve and innocent little kids as to think that they, as teenage Jedi, could get away with hiding a surreptitious relationship from the might and wisdom of the Jedi Council. No Jedi could hide a relationship from the Order, Serra reasoned. It was impossible…

"Thinking of him?" Kysslik-Tyyes teased; her words stung Serra painfully.

"I don't often threaten someone, Kysslik-Tyyes, but if you don't leave us alone, I'll make you wish you were--," Serra began, but her enemy interrupted.

"What? What are you going to do about anything, Serra Keto? You're nothing," she jeered. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I do have some more important business to attend to. As much as I'd love to stay here and flip through the archives of your past, I have to take care of pressing matters."

Anger swelling in her cheeks and her eyes alit with a feverous passion that Ejin had only seen a few times in his life, Serra turned to face him, muttering curses under her breath as Kysslik-Tyyes walked away.

"Don't let her get to you, Serra," he said. "She's just being her usual self."

"I _hate_ her," Serra said, staring fiercely at Ejin while trying to calm herself down; her mental exercises at doing so failed.

"It's okay, Serra. Just don't pay any attention to her," replied Ejin.

She reached her right hand to her belt and unclipped one of her lightsabers. Holding it out, she handed it to Ejin with a gesture to take it from her.

"I can't accept this," he argued.

"Take it," she said, her voice calm, but her angry eyes now locked to the floor; she didn't like Ejin seeing how furious Kysslik-Tyyes made her. "You lost yours so I'm giving you one of mine. Besides," a pause, "I'm keeping Master Frask's with me. I'll have that with me until I die."

Ejin wrapped his mechanical fingers around the lightsaber hilt in her outstretched hand and inspected the construction for a moment. This was Serra's old blade; she had built this saber herself when she was only a child. And here she had handed it to him. She had given over her own lightsaber to him simply because he didn't have one. In any other case, Ejin would have called that Jedi a foolish, insignificant child with no knowledge of the Jedi Code.

But not in this situation.

Now when he looked at Serra Keto, he saw the same person he had known all of his life. He saw the same girl he had grown up with; the same girl who had befriended him when they were both only younglings. And here, in her, he saw the same girl that he had risked so much for throughout his life. This was the same girl that he would continue to risk all he had for and he would do this out of friendship, respect, and _love_.


	16. Chapter XVI

**Chapter XVI**

Space was black, frigid, and empty -- an open vacuum of nothingness that surrounded the flagship of Confederacy of Independent Systems. The cyborg monster that led the Separatists' military forces known only as General Grievous entered a communications deck of _Invisible Hand_ with a pair of MagnaGuards flanking him. With heavy duranium footfalls, the three made their way to the side of Darth Tyranus. The elderly Sith Lord stood at base of a large holo-projector with his usual calmness and quiet reserve carried on his face. Illuminating from the holo-projector was the brooding image of Darth Sidious. The hologram was much larger than usual and displayed the Dark Lord of the Sith as five times his actual size.

"So nice of you to join us, General," Sidious' words were clipped and his tone was harsh.

Grievous motioned the Magna Droids to leave the room. When they had obeyed his gestured command, the Droid General swept his open cape and dropped to one knee before Darth Sidious.

"I apologize for my poor timing, my lord," he said. "I was," a pause, "taking care of other business."

"It matters not, General Grievous," the master of evil replied. "Lord Tyranus tells me that you allowed three Jedi to board your command ship and you allowed them to escape."

Grievous' eyes narrowed on Dooku with a hot flash of pure hatred. Grievous couldn't believe what he was hearing; Sidious had been lied to by Dooku. Oh, how Grievous wished to wrap his hands around Dooku's neck and squeeze until the electro-drivers in his arms broke from the exerted pressure. Grievous chose his words carefully in his response…

"It was Count Dooku's idea to allow the Jedi to board the ship, my lord. While I had been temporarily incapacitated, Dooku was elsewhere with the Jedi. In the end, I believe you will find that it is painfully obvious that _he_ is responsible for losing them."

"It is a shame that we have lost them, Master," Dooku said. "But, I assure you, I have already created a new plan to lure Serra Keto back into our grasp."

"Serra Keto," Sidious said slowly. "I am unfamiliar with this Jedi."

"I am not surprised, my master," Dooku stated. "She is relatively low stature amongst the Order."

"Then what use is she to us?"

"She is highly attuned to the Force, Master, and her blood contains Midicholriens of an impressive number."

"She is no Skywalker," said Sidious.

"No," Dooku conceded, "she is not. She is, however, filled with an undying fervor and uses her anger to further herself in battle. She is strong in the arts of the Jedi, as well. And, perhaps best of all, she is without a teacher. She has no mentor. She seeks someone to teach her, but she has no one--."

Sidious picked up and finished his apprentice's line: "And no one to guide her. Will turning be of any difficulty to you, Lord Tyranus?"

"I sincerely doubt it, my master. She is young and impressionable -- turning her will not be difficult. Despite her many strengths, she has glaring weaknesses. She relies too heavily on her friends for comfort and support. If we eliminate her friends, she will be lost and without purpose. We will show her a new purpose in living."

"My lord," Grievous interrupted, "we still do not know where, exactly, they exited."

Sidious seemed to be searching the Force for an answer and he quickly replied after a moment's pause, "Move your forces to the Healer's Moon of Karkaan and you will find your missing Jedi."

"Just as the trajectory maps had suggested," Grievous said, more to himself than to Sidious or Dooku. "What is your suggestion, Lord Sidious?"

"Invade the moon and capture Serra Keto -- alive. Raze the planet and leave nothing else alive," Sidious stated.

"It shall be done with great pleasure and the utmost of speed, my lord," said the general.

"I have the Senate's hands tied in the deliberations for expanding Homeworld Security here on Coruscant," Sidious said in a rather off-hand comment. He continued, "Soon these trivial political maneuvers will come to an end."

"I am sorry, Master, that I failed to keep Serra in our possession, but I assure you that we will have her back in short order," Dooku said. "And I can find distinct empathy with your position in regards to the petty politics of the Republic," he added.

"I don't need your pity, Lord Tyranus."

Dooku hadn't expected Sidious' sharp words, but he kept his calm in spite of it. Sidious continued.

"General, contact me when you have entered Karkaan's system. I will give you further instructions then," he turned to Dooku and said, "Lord Tyranus, reestablish contact with me after you have secured Serra Keto and have her in your possession. When you do, I will speak with her personally. I, however, must end our meeting abruptly. A meeting with a certain arrogant, knee-high troll beckons me away."

"Yes, Master," Dooku said and bowed before Sidious.

After the hologram had wavered and disappeared, Grievous turned to Dooku and took a few steps towards him. The gait of the mechanical monster, alone, was enough to show his disdain for the Count of Serreno.

"You lied to Lord Sidious, Dooku, and made me the fall-boy for your failures."

"It was a necessary action, General," Dooku replied. "And you are just as responsible for their escape as I am. You do know that, don't you?"

Grievous hissed, "You did nothing to prevent their escape and you prohibited me from blasting them to oblivion. The blame lies solely on your shoulders."

Dooku shrugged his shoulders and said flatly, "If you say so, my misguided subordinate."

Again, Grievous felt like snapping Dooku's neck and breaking every bone in his body. He clenched his icy duranium fingers into a fist, but soon released it. His fingers cracked with an eerie mechanical sound as he moved his right hand to his shoulder to readjust his cape. With a certain level of indignity shown to Dooku, Grievous strode out of the room with the two MagnaGuards at his heels. Dooku watched with weary eyes for his mind was occupied. He knew he had to carry out his new plan to capture Serra alive carefully for she would not be taken easily. Serra had an unusual gift of a strong fighting spirit. Dooku could turn that on her and use it as an advantage. He smiled while pondering the events to come.


	17. Chapter XVII

**Chapter XVII**

"What is this stuff anyway?" Sallanis Morné asked as she poked curiously at a plateful of food with a fork.

"I don't know," Serra Keto said with a smirk as she took a sip of juri juice from a green-tinted glass.

"I'm not touching that stuff," Ejin Zalo stated. "If it's for the clones, it's not fit for consumption," he added jokingly.

"Don't be a Youngling -- try it," said Kysslik-Tyyes Faanu from behind them as she sat a separate table _by herself._

A clone colonel strode past them, his helmet removed and in his left hand. He turned to the three Jedi with a sly smile spread over Jango Fett's face and spoke.

"You get used to it after a while. When this is all you eat for a year straight, you learn to like it."

"No thanks," Sallanis said with a disgusted grimace as she pushed away her tray.

"Suit yourself," Kysslik-Tyyes said and turned around, away from her fellow Jedi.

The whole situation was entirely reminiscent of past memories of times spent at the Jedi Temple where they had so often been in the similar situation: eating food they had learned to like. She remembered a time when Sallanis had thrown food at her because of a misunderstanding in a prior lesson. Serra smiled fondly at the recollection. It was calming and peaceful, unlike the current times. She glanced over at Ejin, his eyes were cast to the table and his lips were closed in a tight line as he stared at his tray of food. Only hours ago, Serra had broken the news to him about the death of his Jedi Master. Ejin had, somewhat surprisingly, taken the terrible news in stride with a certain degree of reflection and acceptance.

Like a true Jedi.

Yoda had often told them that it was not the way of the Jedi to mourn over the passing of a loved one. Jedi were not supposed to mourn or miss their fallen friends because they knew where they were going -- into the cosmos of the Force -- was a forever peaceful place. Serra, however, could not help but mourn the loss of Master Frask. She had loved him with all of her heart; he had been as close to a father as she had ever had. Yes, there was Cin Drallig, a Jedi Master whom had befriended Serra during her more troubled times and had helped to guide her in the face of hardship. Master Drallig believed in her when others had not and she was relieved to have him. She cared for Cin Drallig, but she knew that he could never fill the void that had been created when Sy-Sen Frask had been killed.

She shook her head, trying to return to the conversation that was taking place between Sallanis and Ejin.

"…and so, I'm thinking we may get a chance to go home," Serra clung onto Sallanis' words in mid-sentence.

"I hope so," replied Ejin softly. "Being out here is so long; so tiring. I miss Coruscant."

"So do I," Serra stated.

"Oh, you miss Coruscant," Kysslik-Tyyes mocked as she turned away from her table to look the other three. She added, "You know, I never liked to believe that I was better than you three, but when I look at it, I see that I really am superior to all three of you."

"You're as irritating as ever," Ejin said under his breath.

"I don't need to be insulted by a pathetic boy with a fake hand," she taunted. "Why don't you kiss Serra some more, Ejin? I'm positive you'd both find that decidedly enjoyable."

Serra blushed, but her eyes narrowed to an angry stare that she shot at Kysslik-Tyyes. Serra and Ejin both said nothing, but their eyes gave off distinct messages of extreme dislike.

"Just go back to eating _alone_, Faanu," jeered Sallanis.

Her words seemed to have a profound effect on Kysslik-Tyyes as her ridiculing smile faded quickly and she turned back to her table in an awkward silence. Serra smirked curiously at Sallanis for having silenced their enemy. It was relaxing for Serra to be simply sitting there with her two closest friends in the entire galaxy. She turned to look at both of them individually; choosing to concentrate on one -- Ejin -- until moving onto Sallanis. She studied Ejin and Sallanis for a brief moment before Sallanis commented.

"Do you want to stop staring at me?" she said with her usual level of sarcasm.

"I'll try," Serra grinned. "Thank you for getting her off my back, by the way."

"It's not a problem," she replied. "She bothers me, too. She sure doesn't represent the model Jedi, does she? Where does she getting off thinking that she's better than us?"

Serra smiled, but did not reply for she knew that if she did, she would be telling a bold lie. As Dooku had told her earlier, Serra knew she was superior in talent and skill than Sallanis and Ejin combined. They would have been killed had it not been for her keen instinct and superior lightsaber prowess. If anyone were to be bragging about their own talents and abilities, it should have been Serra. But she didn't. She knew enough to keep herself quiet and to select her words carefully when dealing with the subject.

Kysslik-Tyyes stood up and walked towards her three friend-foes, noted as friends because of their position as Jedi -- and all Jedi were supposed to fight together for the same cause -- yet they were foes due to their extreme animosity for each other. Kysslik-Tyyes ran her hand through her hair and looked straight at Serra as she spoke.

"I do, though, have to tell you about the meeting Master Or'la planned for later tonight."

"What sort of meeting?" Ejin asked.

"It's a review of strategy or so I've been told. I want to skip it, but I can't," she answered in almost a childish pout.

"I guess that means we have to go too, 'eh?" said Sallanis.

"Meetings put me to sleep, which, ironically enough, is where I'm headed off to," Serra said. "Sallanis, could you just tell Master Or'la that I retired early for the night?"

"Sure," she said while nodding her head. "Lucky girl. Too bad I didn't of that."

"That's because you're not as smart as me," Serra teased.

"Go to bed," Sallanis responded in her typical poking-fun fashion.

* * *

The night air of Coruscant was chilling and filled with smoke. This setting helped to set the mood for the environment of the Jedi Temple, Serra Keto noted with grim determination. She was out of breath -- the results of running and fighting with the treasonous clonetroopers for the last hour or more. In her hands, her two lightsabers glowed with emerald fire. They had blocked hundreds of blaster bolts in the past hour and had cut apart scores of clones. The scorched remains of a handful of clonetroopers were strewn on the floor about her. Her senses alerted her of a coming danger and she turned to the entrance. 

The door slid open and a squad of clones entered, led by an Advanced Recon Commando. The ARC trooper and his five clone comrades raised their blasters to fire. Serra's lightsabers spun and deflected the oncoming shots with incredible accuracy, bouncing the lethal bolts back to the shooters. Serra flipped into the air, twirled, and slashed off the arms of a clone and whirled to cut off the legs of another. She dropped to her knees and rose to stab a soldier in the chest with one lightsaber while cutting the ARC trooper in half. The final remaining clonetrooper raised his rifle, but lost his arm and, with a swift stroke, his head. The helmet twirled through the air and bounced against the floor in the hallway outside the control room she stood in.

And then it came: a rushing tidal wave of the dark side. A surging pulse unlike Serra had ever felt in her entire life; not even comparable to the late Count Dooku she had encountered three months prior. Through the open doorway walked _him_ -- Anakin Skywalker. His hood was up and his lightsaber was a burning blue inferno that extended from his cloaked mechanical hand, covered in a black glove. Serra could feel the sheer hatred within Skywalker even just by his murderous gaze.

She spoke first.

"You shouldn't have come here, Skywalker."

"Serra, Cin Drallig's most gifted pupil, has come to greet me," he replied just prior to a leap he made to the floor of the control room.

Everything around her and the room soon became surrounded in a confused haze. Green lightsabers clashed against a lone blue blade. Back and forth they parried across the room. Then a leap from Anakin and herself carried them to an upper balcony. Their swords clashed with fury as their fight continued. Serra jumped Anakin's blade and slashed a pillar in half. With great speed, Anakin lifted a half of the pillar and flung it at his opponent. Serra felt the crushing weight of the pillar as it struck her in the chest and swept her off the balcony to the floor below.

Her eyes closed and all went dark, save for a quick series of images that flashed through her mind. Quick glimpses of Ejin and Sallanis appeared. Their faces appeared to be peaceful, but their eyes were closed. They were dead, as well. An unfamiliar and eerie sound flooded her eyes and pounded against her skull. It sounded like a respirator; a harsh and mechanical breathing that drew into deep inhales and released short breaths.

Serra Keto died at the hands of Anakin Skywalker.

And then she woke up, perspiration streaking down her forehead. She stirred and let out a soft cry of pain. She flung her hands to her chest as if to relieve the nonexistent crushing pain she had felt on her. She soon realized that it had all been a simple dream. Confused and perspiring, she threw off the covers and rose from her sleep-couch. She had taken her sleeveless over-armor shirt and her skirt bottom off prior to lying down to sleep and had released the pins from her hair, letting it fall past her shoulders and free of any entanglements. Her eyes narrowed in the darkness as she hunted for something. And yet, she was not sure of what she was searching for. Perhaps it was not a physical object. Rather, it could have been a less tangible item: a release from the stress of her nightmare.

She had to talk to someone.


	18. Chapter XVIII

**Chapter XVIII**

The early morning air crept through the Jeweled Fort like a cold mist. All was dark as the sun had been yet to rise into the sky. A stiff wind had picked up during the night and as it blew, it fluttered the cloak of Serra Keto as she walked down a wide balcony. After she had stirred awake from her terrifying nightmare, Serra had given up on the idea of sleep. When she closed her eyes, she could still see the terrible images in her mind; still hear the vile sound of that unusual mechanical breathing. Serra had journeyed out onto the balcony in search of Sallanis. She soon spotted her room and a set of three closed windows. The glass was tinted in such a manner that it prevented anyone from seeing through it, but allowed those inside to see out. With a slight motion of her hand, she broke the lock on one of the windows with the Force and pulled the glass pane open. As silent as she could be, she crept through the window and dropped down into Sallanis' room with the most graceful of landings.

Sallanis' lightsaber burned brightly in the darkness, a glowing rod of blue that illuminated the room. When she saw that it was a friend and not an intruder, she deactivated the weapon and returned it to her belt. She took a step towards Serra and spoke softly.

"Sorry about that. I'm just a little jumpy."

Serra smiled in the darkness. "That's okay; I'd do the same."

"So," a pause, "what's going on? You usually don't just break down my window in the night for no reason. What's troubling you?"

"This is going to sound rather," she swallowed, trying to find a word, "stupid, for lack of a better description. I had a bad dream."

Sallanis remained composed for as long as she could, but she soon released a short laugh. Serra looked hurt and Sallanis breathed a quick apology.

"You had a nightmare?" Serra nodded. "What was it about?"

Serra walked towards Sallanis' sleep-couch and sat down. Sallanis approached her and sat down beside her. Even in the black of the night, she could see the shaky look on her friend's face. This had to have been a rather terrifying dream.

"Death," Serra said at long last. "I don't know quite how to describe it. I was in the Temple. I think it looked like a control room, but I'm not sure. The doors to the room opened and a group of clones entered," she paused again, expecting a reply from Sallanis but there was nothing. Sallanis allowed her to continue and she did. "The clonetroopers fired on me and I defended myself. They were trying to kill me so I killed them."

"That's really weird," Sallanis remarked. "Why in the galaxy would the clones attack you?"

"I don't know, but it got worse. The door opened and Anakin Skywalker walked in. I don't know why, but I hated him in the dream," she paused again, "and he hated me. He activated his lightsaber and we fought."

"Oh my," said Sallanis slowly. "This doesn't make any sense. Why would Anakin ever--," Serra interrupted.

"I don't know," she said. "I just don't know. In my nightmare, he," a long, painful silence came then until she could pull herself to finish her sentence: "killed me."

Sallanis' eyes went wide with surprise. "I've never heard of a dream like this before," she stated.

"When I was dying, I could feel this terrible weight on my chest. I don't really know what it was, though I think it was some sort of pillar or column that had fallen on me. I closed me eyes and I saw you and Ejin." Serra looked at her best friend with quiet reserve as she gave the next line: "You were both dead."

Sallanis blinked. "Dead?"

Serra nodded grimly. "I could hear this absolutely dreadful noise, too, when I was dying. It sounded like labored mechanical breathing. It was coarse and rough."

"What happened then?"

"I woke up, wet with sweat, terrified, and confused. I can't sleep, so I came here," she said. "To talk to you," Serra added.

Sallanis swallowed hard, trying to absorb the entirety of what Serra had told her of. It was a harder action to do than one would think. She took the time to consider all of what Serra had just said before she even made an attempt to speak. Slow, at first, Sallanis gave a reply.

"Well, I'm glad you came to talk to me about it, at least. I'm just more than a bit scared that dreamed about all three of us dying -- especially you being killed by Anakin Skywalker of all people. There's nothing in the galaxy that could make Anakin do that to another Jedi. He's incapable of that kind of an action, I think."

"You idolize him too much, Sal," she responded. "He's not all powerful. He's a normal human just like you and I. He's just a little lucky."

"You know that's not true, Serra. I think he is the Chosen One. I think the prophecy is true and he _will _bring balance," her statement came to Serra like a slap across the face. Serra narrowed her eyes, but turned away and stared at the floor as she spoke.

"He's no better than you," she said. "He's just a person. He's not the Chosen One, either. But now we're way off the topic."

"Are we?" Sallanis asked. "Your dream is about Anakin killing you. Is it not reasonable to talk of him then?"

"I guess so," muttered Serra. "I just don't like all this constant praise about him, that's all. Can we just cut the prophecy-talk and stick to my dream?"

"Whatever you say," she replied. "I don't know what to make of your dream, Serra, but it scares me. I had a bad dream once, too, where I saw myself dying."

Serra cocked an eyebrow. "You never told me that."

"I don't like talking about it. It was in the first year of the war. I still remember it like it was last night, though. It scared me so much, Serra…" her voice trailed off and she turned to look at her friend. "It was right after the Siege of Ru. I had a nightmare that I was drowning. It was the worst feeling I've ever had. I felt so helpless then. I still do."

"You do know that Ejin and I will always be here to help you, right? We're not going to leave you by yourself -- not now; not ever."

Sallanis smiled. "I know. I don't intend on leaving the two of you, either. And speaking of Ejin--," she began, but Serra cut in.

"Don't go there, Sal," her voice was tempered and Sallanis could tell she was wholeheartedly serious.

"You know you can't keep avoiding the subject. Look, I'm not like Faanu-face -- I'm not trying to embarrass or harass you. I just think we should talk about this, but if you don't want to, I'll respect your decision."

Serra sighed. "What do you want to know about it? What is there to be said?"

"How do you feel towards him?"

"He's my best friend. Just like you are," she said flatly; honestly. "If you're trying to insinuate that there's still something between us, you're wrong. Those feelings died a long time ago," she felt a bit of her mind telling her to stop lying, but she continued, "We're adults now, not kids. What we did five years ago is far behind us now."

"Does Ejin feel the same way?" she asked.

"I don't know," she admitted. "I don't think he's willing to tell me, either. He dislikes bringing up that subject as much as I do."

And, yet, Serra knew that was another lie. She actually enjoyed the memories she had from five years ago. She looked back on them warmly, remembering the legitimate love the two shared for each other. At times -- occasional lonely points that Serra Keto at night on various sundry Outer-Rim worlds during campaigns of the Clone Wars -- she longed for that love. Sometimes, Serra even dreamed of intimate times she had shared with Ejin; memories of personal experiences that she had enjoyed years ago…

"If you still feel for him, though," Sallanis paused, "you cannot lie to yourself about it. Be honest with yourself, Serra. That's the best advice I can give you."

Serra nodded. "I know."

"Something else bothering you?"

"I still feel awkward for what I said to Dooku," she admitted. "A part of me feels like I betrayed my vows and convictions to the Jedi by saying what I said to Dooku."

"For the last time, Serra, you did not betray anything by making that fake bargain with Dooku. We would have died if it wasn't for you. Ejin and I owe you are lives."

"How many times is that now? Six?" Serra said with a smirk.

"Seven, actually," Sallanis corrected with a wink.

"I do, however, want you to know that your friendship means a great deal to me, Sallanis. I don't know where I'd be if it wasn't for you."

"I feel the same. Well, not about myself. Err, it's not that I'm friends with myself or anything because that would just sound dumb and conceited. Umm," she attempted to say while tripping over her own words, "I value our friendship, Serra, beyond words."

"You've always been there, Sal."

"I'll always be there, Serra," she said with an affirmative nod. "I never had a sister, you know."

"I think I have one, but I don't remember enough of my childhood to know. I was only three years old when I was brought to the Temple. I can't recall much of my life before that, but for some reason, I want to believe I have a sister out there in the galaxy somewhere."

Sallanis smiled again. "You're sitting right next to her."

They hugged; a friendly embrace that, while it would have been shunned greatly by the Jedi Order as a whole, it seemed to feel right in the context of their situation. Whether or not they were in violation of the Jedi Code was a subject for a different discussion. They were best friends, caught up in the chaos and misery of the most violent war that the galaxy had ever known. They were, regardless of whether they would admit to it, frightened at heart.

The Clone Wars had that effect on even the most fearless and cunning Jedi warriors. It had shattered worlds and slaughtered billions. Tearing at the very fabric of the galaxy, the Wars had devastated so many innocents. At this moment in time, two female Padawans remained locked in one another's arms as they sat at the edge of a sleep-couch. This was a symbol for their strength and unity together. So long as they held one another, they were safe from anything that could threaten them.


	19. Chapter XIX

**Chapter XIX**

The sunrise had come and gone over the Jeweled Fort on the Healer's Moon of Karkaan. Kysslik-Tyyes Faanu strode through an open hallway and to a room where her Jedi Master, Deshtok Or'la, stood amongst a group of clonetroopers. Out of the corner of her eye, she spotted the approaching forms of Serra Keto and Sallanis Morné walking down the hallway to her left, apparently coming from Sallanis' room. That sent a curious spark through Kysslik-Tyyes and made her think for a moment about the possibilities of what had drawn Serra to Sallanis' room over night. She smiled devilishly when she thought of off-chance that poor Serra had a bad dream; a nightmare that made her run and cry to her friend for support. Had Kysslik-Tyyes known the actuality of the event, she would not have been smiling.

Or would she have?

Kysslik-Tyyes was, at heart, an absolute antagonist. For whatever the perverse reasons she possessed, she drew a certain measure of enjoyment out of bothering a list of a few select people; Serra and Ejin were at the top of that list. She knew that because of the way she often acted -- and her attitude had always been something for which she was reprimanded by her mentor -- that many within the Jedi Temple did not take a kind liking to her, whether they'd admit to it or not. Most of the time, it didn't really bother her very much. But other times, Kysslik-Tyyes took the time to realize how alone she really was. What would become of her if her only confidant, Master Or'la, were to be slain in battle? Kysslik-Tyyes shuddered, not allowing herself to even entertain the mere thought of such a possible outcome.

She turned to Serra and said with her usual level of superiority, "Why are the two of you so late?"

"Why do you care?" Serra replied. "It's none of your concern."

"I want to make it my concern," Kysslik-Tyyes said. "Were you off having a fun night with your _good_ friend, Ejin?"

Serra grew flustered with irritation, but did not say anything. Sallanis spoke instead.

"It's really no wonder why you have no friends."

Kysslik-Tyyes suddenly looked wounded by the comment, but seemed to ignore the remark. She picked up right where she had left off.

"It really is a wonder, Sallanis, why you stick so close to Serra and her lover-boy, Ejin. Can't you hold yourself to a higher standard?"

Serra looked as if she could pounce upon Kysslik-Tyyes and tear her throat out like a sand cat. And then, she did nearly that. With an animal-like fervor, something inside Serra snapped. The flickering flame that represented her dislike of Kysslik-Tyyes Faanu suddenly burst into a raging, white-hot fire. Serra sprung forward and pushed her friend-foe to the floor with lightning speed. Kysslik-Tyyes let out a surprised groan and Sallanis' eyes went wide with amazement. No one had seen it coming.

Serra stared daggers down at Kysslik-Tyyes as she lay atop her. Serra's hands had become clasped with her rival's and the two girls struggled for an advantageous position over one another. Serra remained on top of her and seemed to be trying to raise her knees high enough to force them down on to Kysslik-Tyyes' stomach. Strings of black hair hung in her eyes and her teeth bearing in angry, open-mouthed smile, Serra Keto continued to struggle with her fellow Padawan.

Kysslik-Tyyes, however, would not be subjected to an easy defeat; especially at the hands of the person she detested the most. She raised her right arm and swung it, palm open, at Serra's face. In all of the confusion of their struggle, she couldn't see the strike occur, but she could feel her fingernails cut into Serra's cheek and she could hear the sound of the slap to her enemy's face. Serra let out a frustrated cry of momentary pain and turned her face away. Blood soon trickled from five perfect small slashes across her cheek like little rivers across the handprint-shaped welt left on her face.

Meanwhile, Sallanis stood as a spectator and did not know what to do to mediate the fight. The girls tore at each other with renewed fury and all Sallanis could do was watch with a growing degree of uncertainty mixed with fear. It was not fear for herself as she had done nothing wrong nor was it fear for Kysslik-Tyyes as Sallanis did not quite care about her well-being. It was fear for her friend and what would result due to Serra's fight. She could already picture the reprimand that would be forthcoming. The Jedi nature in Sallanis soon took over her startled instincts and she tried to take control of the situation. The icy blade of her lightsaber glowed to life in the corridor. Of course, she had no intention of using it in any manner other than gaining the two fighting girls' attention.

"Both of you, stop it," she shouted as the blade past by her face.

Serra glanced for the briefest of moments at her friend and it proved to be a costly action. Kysslik-Tyyes to full advantage of the situation and she rushed a fist forward at Serra's face. Her punch connected with the full force of her small frame and knocked her friend-foe completely off her and forced her backwards to the floor with an unintelligible cry that came from the surprised Serra. Kysslik-Tyyes followed up with a swift kick from her outstretched leg that found its mark on Serra's abdomen that seemed to knock the wind from her lungs. Serra whimpered as she rolled slowly.

Kysslik-Tyyes and Sallanis both turned their heads sharply at the rhythmic cadence of steps running towards them. Ejin Zalo and a quartet of clone soldiers approached them. Kysslik-Tyyes brushed herself off and stood to her feet while Sallanis helped Serra to her feet. Kysslik-Tyyes' face boasted a broad smile as she turned to greet Ejin and the clones. Serra, however, was blinking back tears. They were not necessary tears caused by any injury of the fight. Rather, they may have been tears of a more personal sort. She had lost control of herself and had allowed her inner feelings to get the better of her. Such an action was a shadow of the dark side…

"What happened here?" a clone colonel said.

Ejin turned to Kysslik-Tyyes and interrupted her before she could speak, "I'm not going to believe a single word of what you say, so stow your lies. Sallanis," he said as he looked to her, "what happened?"

Sallanis hesitated; the momentary shout from her conscience to defend Serra and lie to Ejin. Something within her told her that she couldn't betray Serra by saying the truth of what had happened. She couldn't allow Ejin to know that Serra, not Kysslik-Tyyes, had instigated the quarrel. And yet, she couldn't lie to Ejin. Sallanis frowned. She couldn't lie to defend Serra, but she couldn't tell the truth that could bring harm to Serra.

Deshtok Or'la walked briskly to the scene and gave a curious look to everyone involved. His powerful stare traveled from Ejin and the clone colonel, Bral; both gave a shrugged-shoulder expression as their reply. His eyes journeyed to Sallanis who, at first, looked away, but under the pressure of her teachings and respect for her superiors, turned back to gaze at him. She mouthed an "I don't know" as her response. Finally, his gaze rested on Serra and his Padawan.

Sallanis faltered as she spoke. "Umm," a long pause, "well--," she began, but Kysslik-Tyyes cut her off.

"Serra started it all," she said, practically shouting. "I just asked why they were late for the meeting and she turned into a nexu. I don't know what got into her, but I didn't say anything to spark the fight."

Ejin asked, "Serra?"

Weakly -- pathetically with her eyes to the floor -- Serra replied, "Yes, Ejin?"

"Tell us what happened," Deshtok stated and he cast a sharp gaze to Sallanis when he said, "the truth."

"She's telling the truth," Serra said, her stare still fixed to the floor, not wanting to see the shameful glares she would receive from both Deshtok and Ejin.

Ejin blinked. "_You_ attacked _her_?" Serra nodded. Ejin added, "Oh."

Reluctantly, Sallanis said, "Serra's right, but Faanu isn't telling the whole truth."

Deshtok turned his commanding stare to his apprentice and said, "I want the full truth, my young Padawan."

Kysslik-Tyyes sighed. "I told you the whole truth. Sallanis is just trying to make me look like a liar. I'm not lying."

Kysslik-Tyyes could mask her feelings well; a gift that her mentor had taught her. Deshtok was known for his ability to conceal his emotions, a skill all Jedi shared and all sought to master. Kysslik-Tyyes often found herself using it to get herself out of trouble, though -- a use not intended for the power.

"Have you nothing to say for yourself, Serra?" Deshtok asked.

"It won't happen again," she muttered under her breath while still refusing to raise her gaze.

"What would Master Frask say if he were here to witness you act in such a juvenile fashion entirely unbefitting of a Jedi?" he asked, more to himself that to Serra.

Serra heard him and the anger grew again in her.

"How dare you!" she exclaimed. "You know nothing of Master Frask. Sy-Sen was ten times the Jedi Master you could ever wish to be!" Serra's voice was nearly a cry at this point; an echo of her broken self.

"Serra," Ejin snapped, trying to bring some sense of reason back to his dear friend.

Deshtok said after taking a moment to reflect on her words, "Sy-Sen Frask was a dear friend of mine. I was gravely pained to learn of his death. And now you, Serra Keto, dishonor him and all that he taught you by behaving in this manner. Now," a pause and glance to both his Padawan and Serra, "if the two of you can keep yourselves composed and cooperate, we have another strategy meeting to attend to. Serra, since you missed the one last night, we will have to catch you up on what has transpired."

* * *

As soon as they had walked down the hallway and into the large war room, Serra noticed a group of helmet-less clonetroopers and various droids skirting about the room. A large holo-table sat in the center, illuminating a display map of various battlefields within nearby systems. Serra glanced at two of the screens to see a familiar image from before. On one screen appeared the Kashyyyk system; the other was Rhen Var. She recalled seeing both of those, among others, on what had seemingly been battle plans hidden inside the stolen Separatist shuttle. Serra had reasoned earlier that the shuttle had been reserved for some of the more important members of the Confederacy as the crew of clonetroopers who had investigated the ship after they had arrived at the Jeweled Fort had found a cache of personal artifacts.

Serra's thoughts were broken by a statement made by yet another Jango Fett. She looked up to see who was speaking. The clone was a one of higher training than most of his brethren and that fact was easily denoted by his armor, which closely resembled that of an Advanced Recon Commando only his choice of color was black, not light blue. He was the clone commander for the entire base; Commander Jexxa.

"Are we all here, then?" Jexxa asked.

"You may precede, Commander," Deshtok said as he shot one last glance at his Padawan and Serra.

"Good," Jexxa replied. With a few clicks of keys, he pulled up a star map on the holo-display. "We have some finer points to address, but we do face a glaring issue that must be brought to a head. The communication bunkers of Sestoryl have come under attack by the Separatists. They have sent out an emergency dispatch to all local fleets that are capable of responding. So far, our forces on Durril and Torm have responded to the call and we have been asked to give an answer on whether or not we will deploy."

"Are we under any threat here, Commander?" Ejin asked.

"It's unlikely," Jexxa answered. "We're out of the way. General Grievous would have little purpose in taking our system."

"But he could," Serra said. "He could with ease."

"How do you figure that?" asked Jexxa. "We have our defense positions covered. We're secure here."

"He'd just overrun us, Commander. Worse yet, Grievous would just bombard the whole moon."

"Why would he come here, though? Grievous has no business here and we have nothing of great strategic value here. He'd jump over us before even thinking of invading," the clone commander argued.

"Me," Serra said flatly. "Well, actually, the three of us. My feelings tell me that General Grievous and Count Dooku intend on hunting us down. Our escape must have been a great embarrassment for two of them."

"General, your thoughts?" Jexxa said as he turned to Deshtok.

"The girl may be right," he said after a moment of contemplation. "Grievous, however, would not know where to start searching for you. Attacking Karkaan would simply be a blaster shot in the dark for him."

"Unless he had the ship tracked," Sallanis said.

"Or plotted our hyperspace trajectory," added Ejin.

Deshtok looked concerned for the briefest of moments and it showed in his coloring. He turned to Jexxa and said, "Under these circumstances, how long could we hold off a full-scale invasion, Commander?"

"It's impossible to guess, General. It also depends greatly upon how long we have to prepare."

Serra glanced back at the holo-display and felt a sudden chill run through her. She shook her head, not believing what she was seeing. On the holo-map, she watched as Separatist ships began to exit hyperspace near the gas giant, Karkaan. She watched on for a second longer and saw the ghostly blued image of _Invisible Hand_ appear on the display. She turned quickly to her fellow Jedi, but they, too, had already taken notice.

Jexxa, with grave determination in his tone, said, "Put the base the alert. Grievous is launching an attack. Prepare for defense."


	20. Chapter XX

**Chapter XX**

The hologram of Darth Sidious, the Dark Lord of the Sith, fluttered into place before the bowing forms of Darth Tyranus and General Grievous. From under his hood, Sidious' eyes darted about the room for the briefest of moments before settling his frightening gaze on his apprentice. Dooku slowly raised his head to look up at his mentor as the dark lord began to speak.

"The complex will be sparsely protected, General. Securing Serra Keto will not be difficult for you," he turned to Dooku and said, "when you have her, Lord Tyranus, you will contact me."

"And of the other Jedi on the surface -- Serra's friends?" Dooku asked.

"General Grievous will take care of them," Sidious answered. "Capture Keto alive and eliminate her Jedi allies, General. Execute the plans with precision, General, and you will have new trophies for your collection."

"Yes, my lord," Grievous said, still bowing to the hologram.

"And Lord Tyranus," he began, "I have a special assignment for you."

"Master?"

"The time for my revelation approaches," he said, slowly. "As I had requested of you on Geonosis, I request of you again. Blind them with the truth, Lord Tyranus. It will only serve to be their undoing."

"What am I to tell them, Master?" asked Dooku.

"You will tell them what you feel is right," Sidious stated. "As before, you will not divulge the complete truth. Rather, you will give them a mere sample of the grander picture."

Dooku grinned. "As you wish, my master."

The hologram faded away and Grievous stood up. With his cape closed around him, he walked towards an open door and out into the corridor beyond it; two MagnaGuards trailing in pursuit. Dooku watched him leave and said nothing as he exited. The elderly Sith's mind was turning gears. Darth Sidious had instructed Dooku to enlighten the Jedi a little more about the way the galaxy worked, much as Dooku had at the beginning of the Wars. Just prior to the Battle of Geonosis, Dooku had told the truth to Obi-Wan Kenobi -- the Senate was under the control Darth Sidious, a Sith Lord. The move was brilliant. It sent the Jedi into a tailspin of chaos. They didn't know whether or not Dooku had been telling the truth. Kenobi had presumed it was a lie under the misguided assumption that the Jedi Council would know if a Sith was leading the galaxy.

Blind arrogance. Dooku scoffed and realized once more why he had left the Jedi Order under his own free will. He would have never allowed himself to be a puppet of such fallacies and misconceptions. Now Dooku would use their arrogance like a weapon against them. As his master had told him to do, Dooku would blind the Jedi with more shades of the truth.

An L-71 Separatist shuttle -- much like the one that the three Jedi had stolen for an escape vessel -- took off from the hanger bay of the Confederacy of Independent Systems' flagship, _Invisible Hand_. A squad of Vulture fighters and a squad of tri-fighters accompanied it as it traveled through space. The extra escorts were necessary for this shuttle as it contained highly valuable crew to say the least. Along with an entire company of battle droids, the shuttle carried the two top ranking members of the Separatist leadership, Count Dooku and General Grievous. Dooku was the political leader; Grievous, the military genius. When they acted together -- an event that was getting rarer as the Clone Wars progressed -- they were invincible.

"You all know what to do," General Grievous' fanged mask dipped a bit as he spoke to a sextet of MagnaGuards. "Lord Sidious has instructed us with finding and capturing the Jedi, Serra Keto. I will handle that myself. You will attack and kill the other Jedi with her. This ends here."

"A laughable plan you have, General," Dooku said from behind the bionic Kaleesh. "Serra Keto will not be so easily taken and neither shall her friends. Your elite droids will prove to be no match for them, I assure you."

Grievous growled, "I have had enough of your banter, Dooku. Lord Sidious gave you your orders; I am carrying out mine. Do you wish to test my progression in your Jedi arts here and now or should we save for later?"

Dooku laughed and his right hand slid slowly towards the elegant curve of his lightsaber hilt. That subtle sight was reacted to by the MagnaGuards as a threat. Instantly, all six reared to life, activating their electro-staffs and forming up into an attack position. They surrounded Dooku.

"I helped make you, General, and I could destroy you. Recognize that. If you wish to polish your sword-play before the upcoming events, however, I am at your service."

Grievous sneered, signaled his bodyguards to stand down, and parted his cape.

"Your move, old man," he said as he drew two lightsabers from his collection and activated them; their blue blades glowed bright.

In an instant, Dooku's weapon glowed into ignition and he cut up in a wide arc that the General blocked with both swords, criss-crossing the blades to better defend himself. The two entangled blades again and again, Dooku showing flawless form in his execution and delivery. Grievous was sporadic, as always. He leaped about the room, almost as if he was dancing in an arrhythmic pattern with his lightsabers and his opponent. Their swords continued to clash as their practice fight continued, Grievous showing his edge as the obvious aggressor, but Dooku showing his skill and experience as the greater duelist. Grievous could calculate Dooku's strikes and parries, but he could not match them with the same delivery and finesse that the Count of Serreno showed. Dooku's refined swordsmanship was evident as he gained the upper hand in the fight.

"Switch forms to better cover your defenses," Dooku stated. "Jump to Q'sell, not Vidg. Learn to balance yourself."

Grievous switched fighting stances in a smooth transition from offense to defense. Their swords clashed again with renewed fury. Dooku smiled and gave more suggestions. Dooku jumped a swipe and countered with a blow that, had it been on full-power, would have killed Grievous. The crimson blade of Dooku's scimitar lightsaber cut across the Droid General's chest, sending a flood of sparks into the air and causing Grievous to bark out a pained cry.

"Now do you understand why your precision is necessary? You must be flawless, General, or you will be destroyed. Obi-Wan Kenobi or Mace Windu will not go as lightly on you as I have, either," he said while returning his deactivated lightsaber hilt to his belt.

Grievous nodded and said, "I appreciate your suggestions, Count, but we have a battle to attend to."

"Yes, my friend, we do. We do," Dooku said as he walked towards the front of the shuttle.

* * *

Battle droids marched across the grass lands of a small island. In the distance, they could see the silhouetted form of the Jeweled Fort against a gray-green backdrop of fog and forest. The combat droids then began to march, en masse, from the island to a shallow lake that cut their landing zone off from the mainland; from the Republic outpost. Armored Attack Tanks formed up behind them and on both flanks, hovering first over the soggy grass and swamplands of the small island and then over the shallow water of the lake. Multiple Troop Transports moved in behind the AAT's. Within the protective armor hulls of the MTT's, sat thousands of combat droids, waiting for a chance to fight for the Separatist cause and be led to victory under General Grievous. 

An unlucky Neimoidian corporal paced the swampland and consulted with some of his droid and sentient counterparts. The corporal was unlucky because he, unlike most of his fellow Neimoidians, was down on the battlefield as opposed to sitting safely in a secured chair housed within the confines of a Trade Federation cruiser that was suspended in orbit. Frightened as hey may have been, he gave commands to the droids like a legitimate leader…

"Form up our central lines!" he shouted. "Captain, ready my floater. Prepare for the defense of our landing zones."

"Sir," a battle droid said as it approached, "our readings indicate Republic forces approaching."

The corporal's eyes bulged for a moment before he said, "Ready our defenses and continue with the march."

"Roger, roger."

And so they did. The minutes that came saw the arrival of Republic forces as the droids continued their march across the shallow lake onto the sandy shores of the other side. Low-Altitude Aerial Transports began to pour in, blasting apart Hailfire droids, AAT's, and launching missiles at the heavy armor of the troop transports. Clone soldiers began to be lowered in from other aerial vehicles. They landed and immediately went to work firing on their droid enemies. Some of the droids broke rank to turn back and fire on the clones while the majority of the advancing army continued their trek across the lake and to the other side where a group of droids had already reached and had already begun their operations of advancing towards the Republic outpost.

The battle in the sky was a different sort of combat, however. It was an unnerving race against time for the outmatched clone pilots as they squared off against overwhelming numbers of Vulture and tri-droid fighters. The sky became a spider-web of blaster fire. Fighters on both sides began to immediately drop from their positions, smoking and aflame. Clones shouted in vain for help from their brethren as they were blasted to oblivion. Vulture droids chattered amongst themselves and commenced their own group dialogue, all the while blasting apart their clone enemies with deadly accuracy and absorbing heavy fire.

A Republic V-Wing crossed through the maze of blaster bolts and unleashed a torrent of fire on an approaching Commerce Guild drop-ship, used to carry scores of battle droids and whole AAT's into battle. Due to the slow speed of the drop-ship, the V-Wing began to make short work of it with its powerful side blasters. But the drop-ship was not without formidable escorts. Four tri-droids skirted out from behind the clouds and fired on the lone V-Wing. In a matter of moments, a stray missile from one of the Republic's own ARC-170's struck the tail of the V-Wing on its port side. A fireball ensued that tore apart the back end of the ship and the V-Wing plummeted to the surface of the Healer's Moon, crashing some time later into the dense forests and open lakes below.

The lead ARC pilot flew under the name of Rem. As experienced and capable as any pilot, Rem was the flight squad commander for the Jeweled Fort's forces. A solid veteran of over thirty separate space and air engagements -- including the Defense of Pijj and the HoloNet favorite, the Skies of Symoqa campaign -- Rem knew his way about the air battlefield and was no stranger to dealing with the CIS droid forces. He didn't take a kind liking to having to fight them, but he was always prepared should he be called upon...

Rem, while piloting his command ARC-170, dodged and absorbed blaster fire as it headed to finish the job that the V-Wing had failed to complete. Rem's escorts, what remained of his squadron, flew in formation behind them. They picked apart Vulture fighters all around them and destroyed eight tri-fighters just on their way to the drop-ship. Forming around the drop-ship were a half-dozen Mankvim-814 Interceptors, small and violet colored produced by the Techno Union. The stubby, awkward appearance of the Mankvim's gave them a slight advantage in combat if their enemy pilots underestimated their abilities despite the fact that he fighters and their pilots were entirely expendable.

"Lock your S-foils if you haven't already, boys," Rem said to his squad as they headed straight into the heart of the Mankvim fighter group.

"Already done, Sir," came one response.

"On it, Sir," said another.

"We're good, Sir," said a third.

The squad separated and came around from the sides to attack the Mankvim's. The Separatist interceptors turned about and readjusted their positions to better counter the approaching threats. All together, they swarmed in on one ARC-170. Because of their inferior shields and poor construction, Mankvim's resorted to swarming their enemies with superior numbers and throwing everything they had at a particular foe until either side was entirely obliterated. They had earned the grim moniker of "violet hail" as they had the tendency in their attack patterns to rain down on their enemies, even resorting to suicide methods to destroy Republic fighters.

Rem shot back around and blasted apart one of the Mankvim's with a single torpedo. He dove under the group as they swarmed and destroyed one of his wingmen who called out over the comlink in an anguished scream as his ARC-170 exploded. Rem narrowed his concentration on the Mankvim's and released a blistering barrage of blaster fire that tore into the hulls of the interceptors and caused two to steer blindly away, one of which instantly crashed into a passing tri-fighter and the explosion of which threw shreds of dura-steel shrapnel everywhere, dicing up the weak armor of the remaining Mankvim's.

"I can't take much more of this," Rem shouted into his comlink.

Commander Jexxa's voice replied, "Entertain our guests, Rem, and have fun."

"It stops being fun, Commander, when you're outmatched and running out of rockets."

"We're sending out reinforcements," Jexxa said. "An additional squadron is en route. And Rem."

"Yes, Commander?"

"Don't worry."

"Why not?" he asked while he jerked the control stick sideways to evade a series of blasts from a tri-droid.

"The Jedi are on their way," he answered.


	21. Chapter XXI

**Chapter XXI**

Blaster bolts sliced through the air like deadly lances. Battle droids, the android infantry of the Separatist army, marched in their tight ranks through the water and to a sandy beach. All around them, explosions erupted and water was tossed into the air, showering the droids as they marched. Spider walkers and armored tanks moved slowly behind them, blasting at enemy soldiers from afar. On the opposite of the lake -- on the beach that the droids were making their march to -- were clonetroopers, the artificially created foot soldiers of the Republic, attempting to dig-in and better fortify their positions against the advancing Separatist forces. The soldiers held their ground as the droids approached, under great amounts of blaster fire that ripped the ground to shreds and cut through clones, killing and wounding many.

A clone lieutenant ran forward from behind a tree he used as cover and shouted, "Hold the lines!"

Blaster bolts pinged against the tree behind him and then against his armor, tearing into him and dropping the clone to the ground. A clone-medic scrambled over to him and, while taking the time to fire off a few shots at the over-numbering droids, examined his injuries. He tore off the helmet of his fallen comrade and looked down at the glassy, blank look that he was receiving from the dying clone. The medic, too, was soon caught in the vicious web of blaster fire and he fell dead to the sandy shore alongside the lieutenant he had tried to save.

More clones rushed forward from their positions and some ran right down the beach and into the water to fight in a closer distance with their robotic adversaries. This action, however, was quite unbefitting of their training and most resisted the urge to do so. The majority of the soldiers remained behind their fortified positions and secured locales while they blasted away, shooting apart scores of the advancing battle droids. Yet, the droids continued to move. Where one fell, three took its place.

"Press the attack," a battle droid said to its companions.

The front of the droid lines began to run through the shallow water and up onto the beach, their dura-steel feet sinking slightly in the orange sand. Their charge forced clonetroopers to reveal their locations and fall-back, giving the droids the advantage. A volley of blaster bolts opened up on the clones and several fell to the ground, wounded or killed. More large explosions tore up the ground as the two armies dueled one another for supremacy.

Blaster fire shredded the once peaceful air of Karkaan Three's beaches and laid waste to any thing or one it touched. Clonetroopers guarded their positions with their lives, laying down wave after of wave of deadly fire that ripped apart battle droids all around them. But the droids continued to march. Soon, the Separatists gained the upper hand in the fight for the beaches as their AAT's finished crossing the water and more Multiple Troop Transports unloaded their cargo -- thousands of battle droids. The Republic soldiers, guardians of civilization in the eyes of so many billions, were forced to fall back once more. There were simply too many combat droids to contend with.

Droidekas soon rolled across the sand beaches and up onto the grassy plains and bluffs that overlooked the lake and surrounding forest. They uncoiled, activated their personal deflector shields, and unleashed a torrent of lethal blaster fire into any clone soldier they could find. Super battle droids, with their rapid firing wrist blasters, came forward, as well, charging ahead of their smaller counterparts. They blasted at a clone colonel who had come out of his secured spot to take a risky shot at the approaching droid army. The repeated laser fire shredded his chest and fell to the grassy ground, smoke trailing from his body.

A clone trooper -- a normal, ordinary soldier in the Republic Army -- fell to his knees, clutching his chest where a blaster had holed him and scorched his insides. More of his companions fell beside him, their bodies twisted and thrown astray. Blaster rifles cluttered the ground, dropped from the hands of wounded and slain soldiers or from the destroyed remains of the Separatists' battle droids. And onward, the two forces fought. Though gravely outnumbered, the whole of the clonetrooper lines remained intact, holding their ground in the face of near-impossible odds.

Despite being contrived human beings that had been grown on Kamino and bred for warfare, some -- many, rather -- of the clones took the time to give momentary mental wishes and contemplate the battle they were engaged in. Some wished for more re-enforcements, a request that could not be entirely granted due to the small size of the Republic presence on the Healer's Moon. Others wished for the presence of Skywalker and Kenobi, the heroes of the Republic. If they had been there, fighting alongside the clones, they would have turned the tide of the chaotic struggle and destroyed the droid army and repel Grievous' invasion.

Yet they didn't have Skywalker or Kenobi. They had a wise and respected Jedi General under the name of Deshtok Or'la and his unstable, but fierce-fighting Padawan Lieutenant known as Kysslik-Tyyes Faanu whom they revered as their commanders. That was all they could have under normal circumstances. They had three others, too.

Keto, Zalo, and Morné.

But what good were they if they remained in the Jeweled Fort, shielded from the danger of combat just because they had recently escaped the clutches of General Grievous. They were useless to the clone force unless they were on the frontlines, right next to them. If they weren't crawling through the long grass or stomping through the sand and water, then they were without purpose. They could never be of any use if they filled that role. The clones needed commanders in the field, not commanders that holed up in their base.

And then the word finally reached all the clones still alive. The words they wished to hear and longed to be informed of. The Jedi were coming. They were en route to the front. The clones rejoiced at the very sound of the news, realizing its full implications. Jedi were not invincible, but the might they wielded in combat was far greater than that of any clonetrooper. Each individual Jedi was worth hundreds -- maybe thousands -- of clones. Clonetroopers could be readily replaced at the fingertips of the Kamino cloners; Jedi could not be. They were each need in for their strengths and cherished for their wisdom and skill. They were not soldiers by nature, but they had become them.

The morale of the clonetroopers reached a new peak and they charged down from their positions, headlong at the incoming droid force. Only meters away, they blasted droids to pieces and some resorted to hand-to-hand combat with the droids, smashing them with the butts of their rifle stocks and throwing punches and strong kicks. Despite the undisputable bravery of the clones, their advance was soon repelled by the overpowering numbers of enemy droids.

Two clonetroopers -- two brothers in arms -- ran forward while the whole of their lines fell back. They gave up a loud battle cry and charged impetuously into the droid ranks. Side-by-side, the two clones blasted at the droids. When the oncoming flood of enemy fire took to them, it ripped apart their armor and knocked them off their feet. The clone on the right was the first to fall; dropping his rifle and sinking to his knees before falling fast-first into the sandy shore. The second soldier dropped moments later, when a fierce and savage laser blast struck his head and shattered more than just his helmet. His corpse fell to the ground beside the body of his brethren. The battle droid army marched right over them and continued their advance across the shore and up the grassy bluffs.

While the ground war looked to be a Republic defeat, the air war -- and the space dogfight that raged on in orbit above the Healer's Moon -- was clearly under control of the Republic's clone pilots. Ace pilot, Rem, shot through the sky with surprising grace for his rough and ready ARC-170, tearing apart Vulture fighters and tri-fighters with great precision. He dove under an advancing swarm droid fighters and flew up behind them, cutting into them with repeated blaster bolts that shattered their frames and made them lighten up the sky in short-lived explosions. The fight continued…

Above the planet, in open space, a handful of large deep-space cruisers on both sides traded shots with each other with the Republic holding the clear advantage. Lances of red and blue light crossed through the blackness of space and fizzled out against the shields of ships while other blaster bolts sliced through the armor of weaker ships and cut into the sides of vessels. _Invisible Hand_ unleashed a stinging flood of fire from the numerous batteries that prickled the sides of its hull. The turbolaser turrets opened up fire and centered their shots squarely on a Republic assault cruiser, _Pride_.

_Pride_'s shields held strong against the opening volley of blasts and returned fire of its own that dissolved against the strong shields of the Separatist flagship. A continued blistering hail of fire slashed through the armor of _Pride_ and gutted the insides of the ship. Explosions tore up the assault cruiser and the nose of the ship soon began to dip forward, losing the control to keep itself steady. A fire broke out in the command bridge after a series of proton torpedoes slammed into the unprotected ship and sparked fires throughout the vessel. More missiles struck the _Pride_ and tore apart the fuel chambers. A vicious explosion instantly resulted that ripped the assault ship in half and threw debris out of the hull. Walls of fire swept down the hallways of the ship, picking up clonetroopers and carrying the helpless soldiers away to a fiery death.

Squadrons of Aggressive ReConnaissance One-Seventy starfighters locked their S-foils and sailed through open space towards an oncoming fleet Vulture and tri-fighters. Proton torpedoes and lasers slashed the vacuum of space and found their mark on various vessels. One squadron of ARC-170's raced towards a _Victory_-class Star Destroyer that was engaging in destroying a few InterGalactic Banking Clan _Munificent_-class frigates that were succeeding in their efforts to relay communications in between Separatist ships and jam some of the Republic's frequencies. The thin armor of the IBC frigates proved no match for the powerful blasts from the Star Destroyer and even the ARC-170's. Pieces of debris blew off and floated away from one of the frigates. It soon began to smoke and shred more debris as continued shots tore it to pieces. The ship sunk away and crashed into another frigate and explosions ensued in both that ripped apart both vessels.

The Battle of Karkaan Three was a vile one, on both the ground and in the skies. On the sandy shore, hundreds of clones lay dead or injured -- their ranks broken and falling back. The battered and destroyed remains of thousands of battle droids lay sputtering sparks on the beach. Downed fighters plumed choking black smoke into the sky and blazed red with fire. The burned out shells of Armored Attack Tanks, _Saber_-class Republic tanks, and scout skiffs littered the shore. Above the destruction on the ground, hordes of fighters fought one another for air supremacy while capital ships dueled for control of the open space around the moon.

Fleeing citizens -- helpless refugees -- ran for their lives, carrying what little they could on their backs as the droid forces continued to approach their small city. Blaster fire from droid fighters, acting under orders of their fiendish Droid General, strafe the citizens, killing and wounding as many as possible in an attempt to break the Republic's will to defend the moon.

Such was the way of the Clone Wars.


	22. Chapter XXII

**Chapter XXII**

The Jedi Council, in all of their infinite wisdom, could have never prepared a Jedi for this. By all traditional senses, Jedi Knights were not soldiers, they were peacekeepers. Three vicious years of the Clone Wars had shredded any remnants of traditional Jedi senses. The Jedi had morphed, rather quickly, from their roles as guardians of peace to generals of the Republic and the saviors of that very foundation. The Republic had been shifted, changed, and reorganized by the hands of conflict. The Wars tore open wounds and sowed shut others all at the same time. Minor conflicts -- war, in general -- had the ever-lasting effect of permanently changing a group or body of people. The Clone Wars had gone far beyond that aspect of combat by not only changing the systems within the Republic and the role of the Jedi, but the scope of how the galaxy operated. Everything would be different when the Wars came to an end -- everyone knew that.

It was here, in the dire confusion of the Clone Wars, that Serra Keto found a certain affinity for chaos. Her skills seemed to amplify under stress and her keen combat perception only grew with tension. She walked towards the hanger bay of the Jeweled Fort, her Jedi friends following beside her. As they entered the open hanger, a rush of wind blew in through the large doors that ruffled their clothes and tussled their hair. Ahead of them lay two Eta-2 _Actis_ Jedi interceptors; the broken-nose and strung-back open cockpit made the vessels unmistakable.

"Those belong to _us_," Kysslik-Tyyes said with a sharp edge to her tone.

"How are we supposed to help out the situation if we don't have any fighters of our own?" Sallanis asked.

"Sallanis," Ejin said, a bit command in his voice, "join that squad of clones on that gunship."

"Yes, _Sir_," she said with a playful emphasis on the last word as she raced towards the Low Altitude Aerial Transport that Ejin had indicated.

A group of clonetroopers joined her and boarded the vessel. As the gunship rose slowly in to the air, Sallanis stuck her head out to give a final, fleeting glance at her friends in the hanger bay. The LAAT took off and rocketed away from the Jeweled Fort, destined for the front lines of the battle to stop the battle droids at the Separatists' beach landing. The farewell stare was a heartfelt one as Sallanis, herself, did not know if she would see either of them again. Something within her gave off a terrible warning about the upcoming events. She felt a sudden shudder run through her as she contemplated the thought of either or both of her friends -- or herself -- dying.

She turned to see Commander Jexxa aboard the LAAT. Though she couldn't see his face, she imagined him to be smiling for some reason or another. Jexxa _enjoyed_ combat; a trait that was entirely fitting due to the fact that it was what he had been created for. The sole reason he existed was to fight in war.

"You don't look like you're enjoying yourself, Lieutenant," Jexxa commented as the gunship roared through the sky, away from her two closest friends.

"I don't think I can. Err, I don't know what it is, Commander, but this doesn't feel right," she said.

"It happens. This is war," Jexxa replied.

Rather out of place, she asked, "Do you ever think about dying, Commander?"

"Every single day."

"Does it affect you?"

"Not the slightest."

She faltered. "I think about dying."

"Who doesn't?"

"I've had dreams about it before."

"Again, who doesn't?"

"You?"

"Of course I do."

"Clones can dream?" she asked.

"We can do all things regular humans can," he answered.

"Oh."

"What's bothering you?"

"I don't know. It's just that I have a bad feeling about this."

"Cheer up; I'll protect you. As long as I'm around, I'll be there for you. Give me an order and I'll obey it."

"You clones are awful loyal."

"If not to the Republic, where would our loyalties lie? I understand that I was bred to fight, but I was also born to serve. I will give my life in the service of any order."

"Without question?"

"I was not born to question."

"The mark of a true soldier," she commented as she gave him a corner-of-her-eye look.

* * *

Serra Keto flashed a concerned look at Ejin Zalo for the briefest of seconds. She turned her eyes back to stare on the two Jedi Starfighters that were being boarded by Kysslik-Tyyes Faanu and her Jedi Master, Deshtok Or'la. Serra contemplated, half-heartedly, on whether or not she should march to Kysslik-Tyyes' starfighter and commandeer the vessel, tossing her friend-foe out onto the hanger floor and assuming control of the ship for herself. Then her daydream ended and she returned to reality. The ground war would need more than just Sallanis to turn the tide. Serra and Ejin would both have to journey to the front and fight. 

Serra hated fighting on the frontlines of any battlefield as it dredged up painful recollections of Master Frask and his death. She had been so powerless to stop Sy-Sen from dying, just as she had been entirely powerless to stop Empress Ra'all from being murdered. A morose feeling began to set in within her and she did her best to brush it away. She didn't feel like sulking over past mistakes. She filled her mind with a statement Yoda had often told her.

_"Dwell on the past, a Jedi does not. Your concentration, remain at front on the present with an eye to the future, it must."_

Yoda had been right then, as he usually always was. Serra shifted her attention back to the present -- where it belonged -- and thought of how she would deal with fighting on the front. She had not spent time on the frontlines of a battle since Duroosh; a miniscule, insignificant engagement on a miniscule, insignificant world. She did not forward to the prospect of repeating her prior experiences on the frontlines of another battlefield…

"Serra," Ejin said, calling her back from her thoughts.

"What is it?" she asked.

"What do you think about our plan?"

"What's our plan?"

"Master Or'la and Kysslik-Tyyes will take to the air battle in their starfighters. You and I will go to the ground in charge of separate squads aboard two different gunships," he said.

Serra nodded. "I guess it'll work."

"You guess?"

"I hope it will," she said softly.

"This isn't a time to be hoping for anything," Desthok commented. "We have to have faith that the Force will guide us in battle and return us safely from it as victors."

Serra turned at the slightest of sounds she heard. She calmed herself with the Force and used it to attune her hearing. She heard the sound again. A slight rapping or tapping against metal. It could have just been the pipes within the building. It could just been one of the astromech droids moving about the hanger. It _could_ have been any number of things. But it wasn't; that she was sure of. She listened closer and even raised her and to signal the other three Jedi not to talk. Something was amiss.

Metal footsteps echoed through the hanger. The four Jedi looked about them with a certain edge of nervousness. The footfalls seemed to grow louder -- closer -- with every step. The sound continued and Ejin ignited his lightsaber; the green blade glowed from his hands. Deshtok Or'la stepped off the small ladder that he had been standing on to board his Jedi Starfighter and activated his lightsaber, as well. His Padawan was less reluctant to step away from her craft, though she did. Kysslik-Tyyes reached for her weapon, but did not light it. With a _snap-hiss_, Serra's lone green lightsaber shimmered into ignition and she twirled it in anticipation of what was approaching.

_Grievous_.

She was sure of it. The sound of those footsteps was unmistakable. The general had come, just as Serra had expected he would, to reap some measure of revenge for his wounded ego -- and he was probably, Serra reasoned, acting under the orders of Dooku. She only hoped that with the aid of her three fellow Jedi, they could destroy Grievous and bring a definitive halt to all of the torture and murder he had been responsible for. Surely Grievous would not be foolish enough to attack four Jedi at the same time. Although, Serra recalled, he had came out the victor against even greater odds at his debut on Hypori.

And then he appeared.

Slowly, the caped form of the dreaded General Grievous snaked his way from the shadows of the hanger bay. Surprisingly, he was alone. He walked one step at a time towards them, his hulking and intimidating figure hunched over and his cape swaying slightly with each movement of his duranium body. His yellow-black eyes centered on Serra as he approached. When he had gotten about five meters or so from the closely-centered group of four Jedi, he stopped.

"So soon we meet again, Serra," he said.

"This'll be the last time, Grievous," she replied as she angled her lightsaber over her head and pointed it at him.

Grievous laughed. "Don't be so sure about that, Jedi slime."

Grievous snapped his spindly metal fingers and the sound served as a cue. From above them, hidden in the hanger's rafters, six MagnaGuards dropped to the floor. They all ignited their electro-staffs upon landing and whirled them to confront the Jedi. Two of the bodyguards stayed at Grievous' side while the other four circled the Jedi, spinning their staffs in some attempt to intimidate their adversaries.

"What are those?" Kysslik-Tyyes asked with a bit of fear.

"Grievous' mechanical monstrosities. They act as bodyguards. Their feet are magnetized and watch out for those electro-staffs," Ejin said in a rushed whisper.

"Oh great," she replied.

Kysslik-Tyyes activated her lightsaber and moved the violet blade away from her to better position herself for defense against the strange droids she had never encountered before. She gave a quick glance over to Grievous and saw that he had opened his cape and risen to combat configuration. He reached for two lightsabers from his macabre collection belt, but he did not ignite them.

"I will deal with you, personally, Serra Keto."

"I'm looking forward to it," she said.

Grievous turned to his bodyguards, "Eviscerate them! Leave none alive!"

The Magna Droids moved in near complete silence save for the continuous hum of the purple electricity emanating from the tips of their deadly bow-staffs. They moved in from the sides of the group, attacking Ejin, Deshtok, and Kysslik-Tyyes all together at once. The Jedi moved, in turn, to block their attacks and each focused on a single guard. Two MagnaGuards soon moved to fight Deshtok at the same time, realizing that he was the most skilled of the three. They acted as a flawless team, matching Deshtok's moves and striking attacks of their own with great exactitude. The Falleen Jedi was hard-pressed to keep up with the two droids…

The activation of the two lightsabers in Grievous' hands pulled Serra into a new level of concentration. She was no longer just living in the hanger and taking part in the experience; she _was_ the experience. Serra's dedicated focus on the fight surprised even herself. Grievous twirled the blue -- Sallanis' weapon that she had dropped on the Separatist flagship -- and green lightsabers around in circles and then moved to attack her. He was holding himself back from unleashing the full ferocity of his fighting as he had been instructed by Darth Sidious to take her alive at all costs. Dooku would have his head if she were to be killed.

Speaking of which, the general thought, where was Dooku? They had boarded the shuttle together, sparred on board in a practice lesson, and landed at the Jeweled Fort. Dooku was with them when they had infiltrated the base, but he had vanished some time just prior to entering the hanger bay. Perhaps, Grievous wondered, he taken to the rafters just as the six MagnaGuards had. But Dooku hadn't jumped off when they.

_He must be waiting for an appropriate time to make an entrance,_ Grievous reasoned. _Typical_.

He turned his attention to the fight and locked sabers with Serra. Sparks flew as his two laser-swords met her single blade. Grievous could see the intensity in her eyes, but he was fully convinced that it was false bravado on her part. From Grievous' perspective, he knew that she couldn't defeat him. No one could…

"Pathetic, Serra! You've weakened since our last match."

"Tell me that when you're reduced to smoking pieces on the floor, Grievous," she shot back.

They tangled blades again and Grievous lashed out with a powerful kick that sent Serra flying back and to the floor. While cutting fiercely at a MagnaGuard, Ejin Zalo caught a glimpse of what had happened to Serra and he reacted with furious strokes and slashes against the bodyguard. In a moment, he claimed the right arm of the droid, but it continued the fight. A moment and a slash to the legs later, he took off both legs. The spark-sputtering, dismembered droid crawled around on the floor with the electro-staff still activated. Ejin beheaded it with a quick swipe. The droid still crawled towards him. Frustrated, he stabbed downwards, cutting through the droid. It stopped moving.

"Grievous!" he shouted as he charged towards the Droid General.

The two MagnaGuards behind Grievous leaped over their commander and landed in front of Ejin. Even before they had touched the ground, they had already started to strike at him with their humming energy weapons. Ejin took several steps backwards in retreat of his position to gain more room to fight both droids. He ducked a whirring swipe from an electro-staff and rose up to cleave the arm off the bodyguard that had delivered the strike. He rolled to the right to avoid a follow-up attack from the second MagnaGuard…

Serra stood up and regained her bearings. She jumped towards Grievous, slashing as she leapt. Grievous hanged positions and raised his lightsabers to block her jumping attack. When she had landed to the right of him, he cut back across the side and forcefully slashed down at her with both lightsabers. The three blades met with a searing kiss. She dodged an attack from Grievous as he lifted his green lightsaber in an attempt to land a down-aimed blow. Grievous jumped back to evade a powerful attack from Serra and he launched himself into more of his highly unorthodox fighting techniques. The general flipped forward and came down at Serra with a heavy barrage of strikes. She narrowly defended each blow.

Perspiration dripping down her forehead in beads, she rose the level of intensity she used in the fight and hauled herself to a higher level of combat awareness. Serra's lightsaber became an indistinguishable blur of green; always in motion and always aimed at landing a killing blow on the Droid General. However, General Grievous would not allow Serra to gain any level of an advantage and he moved to quell her newly found fervor. Grievous and Serra exchanged several strikes and blows before Grievous threw both of his lightsabers up into the air, above his head. In a surprise move as yet another part of his unusual swordsmanship, General Grievous stood on his hands and caught the lightsabers with the talons on his feet. He then went immediately to work in an odd fashion, slashing and striking at Serra with his feet, not his hands, wielding the laser-sabers.

Serra cautioned herself about the dangers that Grievous posed and she backed away from him before launching herself into a headlong lunge at the general, twirling and whirling her lightsaber as she moved. Slashes and strikes were matched with precision blocks by Grievous as he flipped back to the proper way of standing and continued the fight with the lightsabers shifted back to his hands. He swung with wide, broad arcs that forced Serra to keep her distance. She returned with well-aimed, calculating strikes, each one with a distinct purpose. She was testing Grievous' defenses once more. She would force Grievous to make the mistake and would do everything in her power to prevent herself from making one. With the Force as her ally, she moved in ways that even surprised Grievous and he had to adjust his combat style to adapt to the change in the intensity made by Serra. She could be killed, Serra realized, if even the slightest gaffe or shortcoming were to be made exposed and taken advantage of by Grievous in their duel.

Serra had come too far to be killed by her own mistakes.


	23. Chapter XXIII

**Chapter XXIII**

Kysslik-Tyyes Faanu slashed off the left arm of a MagnaGuard at the shoulder. Smoldering and spitting sparks, the bodyguard shifted its electro-staff over to its side and took another swing at the Jedi Padawan, despite the missing limb. Jumping over the maimed droid, she landed behind it and stole away another limb with a sweeping arc of her lightsaber. The violet blade passed cleanly through the right leg of the MagnaGuard. The droid fell off-balance and dropped to the floor, its electro-staff still ignited and desperately swinging at the Jedi who had wounded it. Kysslik-Tyyes spun her lightsaber around and decapitated the droid in one fluid motion. Smoking, the MagnaGuard crumpled over.

Opposite of her was her Jedi Master, Deshtok Or'la, who continued to wage war with IG-131 and IG-124, two MagnaGuards determined to take his life should he allow them even the slightest of mistakes to counter and exploit. One-Thirty-One came to attack Deshtok from his right while One-Twenty-Four attacked from the left and quickly moved to the back. A sizzling sound occurred with every clash of the whirring electro-staffs against the lightsaber. Deshtok jumped over One-Twenty-Four and slapped it across the back with his lightsaber, reducing the MagnaGuard to a scorched scrap heap. One-Thirty-One increased the intensity with which it fought to adjust for the loss of its companion…

Serra Keto ducked a whirling slash from General Grievous and rose up to deliver a series of offensive moves that pushed Grievous away from her and forced him to surrender large portions of the hanger floor with every step backwards. Serra unleashed a bombardment of strikes and blows until she reaped some small measure of success by slicing one of Grievous' stolen hilts in half; the green blade blinked out of sight instantly. With anewed ferocity, Grievous fought back with one laser-sword. In a few short moments, another lightsaber glowed to life in his hands and he brought both azure blades down to bear on Serra's single weapon. The crashing blow of the sabers against her own sent a violent shockwave through her arm that was nearly strong enough to force her to drop her lightsaber.

"You're even worse now than before, little girl," Grievous snarled.

"If that were so," she said, "you wouldn't be trying so hard to not injure me. Face it, Grievous, you're a lackey."

"I'm no one's lackey!" he shouted and set free a strong salvo of powerful slashes and fanciful strikes.

They locked blades again and Serra continued her taunting when she said, "You're Dooku's dog. You do as he says."

"You foolish child!" Grievous jeered as they untangled swords and he spun away.

"Yep, you sound like a lackey to me," Serra said with a cocky grin as she twirled her lightsaber over her head before slashing at Grievous.

"You will pay for your insolence, Jedi!" Grievous exclaimed and slashed at her feet with both lightsabers.

Serra jumped the attack and gave Grievous a quick set of return strikes and blows. Grievous replied with more of his unorthodox -- twirls, leaps, and jumps. Grievous danced about the hanger bay with his lightsabers in an arrhythmic pattern, slashing and crossing swords with Serra. He leaped over Serra and landed behind her. She narrowly evaded the strike that came. It appeared that her comments had insulted Grievous more than she thought and he was no longer trying to spare her from injury or even death. Grievous planted one foot on the ground and stretched out with the other leg, kicking at Serra. She dodged the attack, but did not have inertia on her side as she tried to follow through by landing on her feet. Serra fell face-first to the hanger floor and looked up to see Grievous approaching, both blades pointed at her and a look of supremacy in his reptile eyes.

"You lost, Jedi. Prepare for your demise."

"That'll be more than enough, General," Dooku's voice echoed through the air; Serra glanced over to see him approaching from an opened hanger door, flanked by two super battle droids.

The other Jedi noticed him, too, and took his presence into mind when fighting the MagnaGuards. Deshtok slashed apart IG-131 with smart strikes and perfect strokes of his shimmering lightsaber. He turned to confront the Count of Serreno and walked slowly towards him. The super battle droids beside Dooku raised their wrist blasters and unleashed a flood of fire on Deshtok. He defended himself and deflected the blasts back at the droids, destroying both in a matter of seconds.

Dooku smirked, amused by the Jedi Knight's boldness. "Deshtok Or'la. I remember you when you were a mere Padawan. You've grown to be an impressive Jedi Knight, I see."

"Your Separatist movement ends here with your defeat, Dooku," Deshtok stated as he moved his lightsaber past his face and readied himself in preparation for an attack from Dooku.

But the attack did not come from Dooku. Deshtok did not see General Grievous, as quick as lightning, spring forward. Before the famed Falleen Jedi Knight knew what had happened, he was suspended in the air and releasing a cry of great pain. Grievous had buried the talons of his left duranium foot into Deshtok's back, below his shoulder blades and had lifted him into the air. Even while holding him off the ground, Grievous positioned both of his lightsabers in a crossing pattern over Deshtok's throat. Seconds later, he decapitated the Jedi with a swift and sudden jerk of his arms that pulled the lightsabers away from each other. With a furious movement, Grievous tossed the Jedi's lifeless body across the hanger bay. He turned to level his gaze at Serra and Dooku.

Caught completely off-guard by the vicious murder of Desthok Or'la, Serra had been given the briefest of windows to escape away from Dooku. When the Sith Lord had entered the room, she had sat up and made an attempt to stand, but didn't rise to her feet. She rolled backwards and out of the immediate reach of General Grievous. Serra then leaped to her feet, arching her back and using it to sling-shot herself up. Instantly, she activated her lightsaber.

"Now, Serra, where are you off to in such a hastened hurry? Please -- stay a while," Dooku said; his right hand inched towards the curved hilt on his belt, but he did not draw his weapon.

She turned to glance at the progress Ejin and Kysslik-Tyyes had made against the few remaining MagnaGuards. Only two of the bodyguards remained, one fighting Ejin and the other droid was sparring with Kysslik-Tyyes. They continued to duel with no avail. She looked closer and she could see that Kysslik-Tyyes was crying. Tears streamed from her eyes, but she held her own against the lone MagnaGuard. Serra realized that the situation had gotten out of her hands with the death of Master Or'la and the three Jedi were in need of an escape. They had to flee from Grievous again.

Something inside Serra burned a little at the thought of such an action. Clearly, it was a wound to her ego to just abandon the fight with Grievous and Dooku again and flee for their lives. She saw that as beneath her in a way; unbefitting of a Jedi. But she knew that no good would come of their situation if they were to remain in the hanger to be killed by Dooku and his fiendish allies. She caught a glimpse of a single remaining clone air transport and a plan for an escape sparked to life in her mind. Inside of the gunship, she could see the forms of a squad of clonetroopers and a commanding figure that appeared to be an Advanced Recon Commando. They, unlike the second gunship that had departed as soon as Grievous had arrived, had stayed in the hanger in the event that the Jedi needed to be flown out of the hanger and away from the Jeweled Fort.

"Ejin, Kysslik-Tyyes -- to the gunship!" she shouted just prior to performing a backwards flip that carried her through the air and landed her beside her two Jedi companions.

The two MagnaGuards -- IG-107 and IG-111, respectively -- stepped away for a moment before approaching to attack all three of the Jedi. They twirled and spun their electro-staffs before bringing them down to bear on the Jedi's defenses. In a quick motion, the tip of One-Eleven's electro-staff made contact with Kysslik-Tyyes' upper left arm. She screamed in pain as a jolt of burning electricity surged through her. A deep, charred gash on her arm was left by the bodyguard's weapon. Her tunic sleeve, burned open from the rush of electricity, smoldered and gave off an odor that carried with it the smell of burned flesh. As Kysslik-Tyyes faltered out of step in the fight, the MagnaGuard capitalized by landing a blow onto her right thigh; Kysslik-Tyyes shrieked again. Serra stepped in the fight on behalf of Kysslik-Tyyes, whose injury left a large opening for the MagnaGuards to exploit. Serra had saved her rival's life and was risking her own by venturing into combat with IG-111. Serra and the droid traded strikes and blows with one another before Serra overpowered and beheaded it with a swift slash. The droid continued the fight. Serra spun in a quick circle and raised her blade as she moved. The green lightsaber slashed off the droid's right arm and, in continuous motion, came down to slice through the left arm at the shoulder. The headless and armless MagnaGuard stumbled around before Serra stabbed it in the chest panel and it fell to the floor smoking.

"Get to that gunship," Serra told Kysslik-Tyyes.

She shook her head fervently. "No. I'm going to my starfighter."

Serra shrugged. "There's no convincing you." She turned away from her and said, "Ejin, the gunship!"

Ejin was already ahead of her, making his way to the LAAT as he exchanged moves with the last remaining MagnaGuard. He leaped a whirring swipe from the droid that was aimed at his feet and came crashing down with a blow that was aimed to take the droid's head off. One-O-Seven dodged the full force of the attack by moving to the right as quick as it could. It could not, however, evade it completely and lost its left arm at the duranium elbow joint. Ejin knocked the droid bodyguard to the ground with a whirling kick and ran towards the gunship; Kysslik-Tyyes was making her way to her starfighter and moving rather slow due to her injury.

General Grievous leaped into the air and landed in front of Serra and Ejin, lightsabers twirling to lock with both of their blades as soon as he had landed. The Droid General released a furious barrage of merciless strikes and slashes that the two Jedi found hard to defend against. Ejin rolled under a swipe from Grievous and evaded it to the left. Serra, however, had taken up the fight once more with the general and traded blows with him as they began to move away from the LAAT; Count Dooku continued to watch from a safe distance.

As Serra dueled to the death with the fearsome General Grievous, Ejin found the time to take advantage of the situation. He noticed two separate coils of tow cable with fixed hooks on the ends of both spools connected to the very back-end of the Republic gunship. With the invisible hand of the Force, he released on of the coils of cable and guided it through the air, towards Grievous. As quick as he could, he wrapped the tow cable around Grievous' left ankle. He then retrieved his comlink from his belt with his free hand and contacted the pilots of the gunship.

"Pilot, take off now," he ordered.

"Yes, Sir," was the reply he received.

The gunship's engines lit up and the ship roared to life. As the LAAT rose into the air to take off, General Grievous realized what had occurred when he saw the tow cable latched around his ankle. He slashed at it with one of his lightsabers, but, to his surprise, the cable -- forged from the same alloy that his bodyguards' staffs were -- did not sever. Grievous growled, frustrated by the impervious carbon cable. He sunk the talons of his right foot into the floor and gripped as hard as he could to hold himself steady. As the gunship began to pull away, Grievous realized that he had to let go lest he be tore into pieces. He released his magnetized grip on the hanger floor and was pulled off the ground and into the air.

Serra ran as fast as she could towards the leaving Republic gunship. Determined not to let Grievous leave her sight, she deactivated her lightsaber and pulled the second spool of carbon tow cable free from the back of the gunship. The cable began to unravel and the clamp-hook fixed to the end of it flew free. Serra returned her lightsaber to her belt and leaped into the air. As she flew, she wrapped the fingers around the free floating cable and grabbed hold of it. She swung forward on the rope and glanced down to see that a drop from the gunship's altitude of more than two hundred feet would have been an immediate death. As the LAAT soared through the sky, she turned herself around to try to find Grievous. She looked down again and saw the Droid General hanging upside-down, with his maroon-silver cape blowing wildly in the wind. She smirked…

Ejin's nervous gaze traveled from the stately watching form of Count Dooku, who remained standing across the hanger, to the departing gunship with Serra and Grievous aboard, and finally rested on Kysslik-Tyyes Faanu and her Jedi interceptor. He ran towards it as she began to take off. She shot him a nasty glare as she saw him bound into the air. His leap carried him into a flip and he landed on the right wing of her starfighter. Ejin's comlink immediately beeped with a communication signal. He fetched it from his belt and raised it to his face. Kysslik-Tyyes' voice, irritated, gave him a comical, yet serious statement.

"Get your bantha bottom off my ship, Zalo!"

He raised his comlink to his lips and replied, "Carry me to that gunship."

"No way!" she protested as the ship began to rise into the air.

"Do it, Faanu!" he shouted. "Just fly alongside the gunship. When I'm ready, I'll jump off and you can be off on your own."

Kysslik-Tyyes gritted her teeth, "I'm not going along with this just so you can play the role of the big hero as you rescue your cute little girlfriend. Get your own transport."

"Stars' end, Kysslik-Tyyes! Do you want your master's death to be completely in vain? Do you want that?"

She faltered and began to blink back tears. "I can't avenge his death by dropping you off on a gunship."

"Grievous is on that gunship. You _could_ avenge Master Or'la's death by taking down Grievous and destroying that beast once and for all!"

Her Jedi interceptor, Ejin still on the wing, flew out of the hanger and raced away from the Jeweled Fort. Kysslik-Tyyes slammed her fist against the top of her cockpit and cursed aloud to herself.

"This is going to get us both killed, cyborg-boy," she said.

"If necessary," he responded and smirked at her through the glass.

The wind whipped about him madly, tearing at his loose-fitted clothes. His robe blew all around him and he used the Force to raise his hood over his head to shield his face and help him breath easier. Kysslik-Tyyes accelerated the ship even faster, desperately trying to reach the fleeing gunship.


	24. Chapter XXIV

**Chapter XXIV**

As the Commander of all Separatist military forces, General Grievous had never been inclined to flee from a fight. However, he had also never been keen on the concept of risking all he had to see to the success of a mission. Grievous deactivated both lightsabers and returned them to his collection belt. He raised one hand and grabbed the carbon cable. Hoisting himself upright with a powerful pull, Grievous rose and flipped upwards. He flew past Serra Keto, who remained hanging from her own tow cable, and planted his magnetized feet on the end of the gunship's hull. To stabilize himself, he took hold of the tail gun with his left hand. With powerful steps, he scaled the side of the gunship and rose to the top, standing atop the dorsal side of the gunship, behind the two large rocket launchers.

He looked over the edge to see Serra leap into the air and land beside him. She ignited her lightsaber as soon as she landed and she swept forward in a wide arc that would have surely taken off Grievous' right arm had he not activated his own lightsaber and deflected it away from him. He sprung at her and lit up the second blade. He charged, both lightsabers a blur of blue, and launched an attack that forced Serra to both defend herself and keep her balance on top the fast moving gunship.

Serra crouched down as to better reduce her chances of falling off. She blocked slashes and strikes from Grievous when she could and kept her top priority as maintaining her stability on the ship. She ducked a swipe from her adversary and rolled to the right when Grievous forced her to move in order to escape being cut apart from his whirling laser-sabers. Her roll was a risky one; it destroyed the poise and balance she had created and required her to move dangerously close to falling off the rocketing gunship. Whereas Grievous' magnetized feet prevented from falling off, she had no ready mechanism to do the same. One wrong slip and she would fall to a sure death.

"Your bravery is only surpassed by your stupidity, Jedi," taunted the general.

Serra had no reason to reply. Grievous was, astonishingly enough, correct. Or so Serra believed. Her move of jumping aboard the LAAT was one of the most foolhardy things she had ever done. Such reckless behavior had been with her all of her life, but it showed during times of extreme intensity or driving passion. She knew that if she had stayed within the hanger, she would have had to confront Dooku once more. That was an event she did not think fondly of nor did she wish to experience such an encounter again. Being defeated by him onboard _Invisible Hand_ was bad enough; she didn't nee more bruises to her ego. On a greater scale, she had escaped him once. How could she manage to repeat that again? Dooku would not relent until she was either dead or his evil minion of the dark side.

She ducked again and crashed her lightsaber against both of his. A smile crossed Grievous' eyes as he pushed forward; driving her down the sloped wing of the gunship. Serra had run out of room. Suddenly, a part of her mind focused on so many things she would lose out on when Grievous succeeded in pushing her off the edge of the gunship and she fell to her death. She pondered how much more of her life as a Jedi -- a chaotic existence due to the very nature of the Clone Wars -- she could handle. But it wouldn't matter. Nothing would matter if Grievous killed her. She would be gone forever; off to discover the mystery of the Force first-hand as she became one with it. She would lose Ejin and Sallanis and they would lose her.

Serra's eyes narrowed. They would not lose her. Not today, at least.

A new fire burst into her moves and she struck at the Droid General with anewed vigor. Powerful strokes of her shining green blade followed by punishing blows and masterful slashes forced General Grievous back up the incline of the wing and she risked falling off by delivering a swift kick that nearly knocked Grievous off his feet. She struck at him again and again until he faltered sideways to dodge an attack. She exploited his mistake for all that she could by jarring loose one of his lightsabers and planting the hardest boot she could bear to give on his chest's carapace. Grievous stumbled and fell backwards off the tail-end of the Republic gunship.

Serra was victorious.

Slowly and still crouching down to resist the whipping wind's natural wish to toss her off the ship, Serra made her way to view over the edge of the ship. She chanced a peak to see if Grievous had fallen completely off. When she leaned over to look, General Grievous' right hand grabbed hold of her over-armor shirt and hurled her off the edge of the gunship. The general's action did not come without consequence, however, as inertia carried him off the ship as well, no matter how strong the magnets in his feet were. Grievous and Serra plummeted until both grabbed a tow cable that remained hanging from the back of the ship. Serra wrapped her fingers around the cable as tightly as she could and held onto it for all that she had and all of which she had left to live for.

Grievous closed his mechanical grip on his own tow cable and shot a look towards Serra. With a flash of blue light, a lightsaber materialized in his left hand. Serra could not believe that the general would seriously consider continuing the fight while the two of them clung to carbon cables on the back of a moving of Republic gunship. Grievous would not be one to rationalize the advantages and great disadvantages that would abound from attempting such an imprudent maneuver. She had to defend herself, though, and a _snap-hiss_ indicated the ignition of her own lightsaber. Grievous swung his cable towards her and she angled her weapon to parry the strike. The Droid General came back around with his return swing and Serra barely blocked the slash that was aimed at her knees.

Serra quickly came to the conclusion that if she were to go on the offensive, it would place Grievous in a most inconvenient of fighting locations and his defense would not only be hard to accomplish, but slapdash in its precision. Grievous' fast-as-light reflexes enabled him to do a great many things, but not even he, Serra figured, could keep up a prolonged defense while suspended from a swinging cable and traveling at great speed. Serra hardly could the same and she had the most powerful ally of all, the Force, to assist her. She took a diving swing at Grievous and they tangled blades. On her return, she gave an awkward slash that came intended for Grievous' arm. He moved completely out of the way and Serra swung past him, her lightsaber slicing only the air.

She didn't know how much more of such intense and unique combat she could handle. She looked for a way to get back aboard the gunship, but the only route seemed to be that of leaping into the air and landing atop it. Such a feat might as well have been impossible. However, she saw as her cyborg enemy nearly accomplished exactly that. Grievous leaped into the air and landed his magnet-feet on the tail of the gunship, just as he had done before. He repeated his actions from earlier and climbed back on top the gunship. Serra called on the Force to aid her jump. She calmed herself and readied her body and mind. When she was completely certain she could complete the jump, she took to the air and performed a flip that was completely guided by the Force. It propelled her up into the air and landed her on a meter from Grievous. He spun in a half-circle to confront her as soon as she had touched the surface of the ship.

The two resumed their lightsaber fight.

Serra was exhausted at this point; tired both mentally and physically. Perspiration dripped her brow and the taste of salt hung heavy on her lips. She raised her lightsaber and slashed at Grievous. Over and over again, the two gave and took blows and strikes, parries and slashes. She ducked swipes; he jumped slashes. She tried all that she could to keep herself balanced; he merely kept fighting, aided by his magnetic feet. Serra slid down the left wing of the gunship and Grievous pursued, forcefully pushing her towards the edge. With lightsabers aimed at landing a killing blow on her, Serra moved slowly back towards the edge of the wing, cowering down out of fear of being blown off the gunship by the raging winds.

The unmistakable sound of a Jedi interceptor's engines caught her ears, even over the absolute roar of the LAAT's engines. She glanced briefly over her shoulder to see the source of the sound; Kysslik-Tyyes' Jedi interceptor soared alongside the gunship with someone hanging on the side of it. Serra chanced a look again and saw that the person hanging from the side of it was none other than Ejin. She mouthed a startled curse under her breath and turned her attention back to Grievous.

She reacted too slowly.

Grievous delivered a backhand slap that hit Serra across the face with such force that it not only knocked her off her feet, but took her away from her senses for a temporary moment. She flew off the edge of the gunship and tumbled through the air. To Serra, in her half-conscious state of awareness, the fall seemed to be forever. In reality, she felt approximately two meters before a white-armored hand reached out and grabbed her arm. She looked up with half-open eyes and was able to make out the form of an Advanced Recon Commando. The ARC trooper held hold of her and pulled her onboard the gunship…

Ejin Zalo clung to Kysslik-Tyyes' starfighter with every tense muscle in his body. With one hand free, he held his comlink to his mouth and gave his pilot instructions.

"Kysslik-Tyyes, pull alongside the gunship."

"No way!" she shouted into the comlink. "You're going to get us killed. How stupid do you think I am?"

"You don't really want me to answer that, do you? Just pull alongside the gunship so I can jump off."

"You're crazy!" she exclaimed. "You're going to try to jump off and land inside the transport? That'll never happen."

"No, I'm going to jump _on top_ of the gunship, not inside it. I'm taking out Grievous once and for all," he said.

"It's not going to work," she protested.

"Damn it, Kysslik-Tyyes. Will you just show some an ounce of optimism and compassion in your wretched little heart to help another person out for the first time in your miserable life?"

Kysslik-Tyyes was stunned into silence. For a long moment, she kept the starfighter level and tried to match the speed of the Republic gunship. She absorbed what he had said. Some of it seemed to sink into her mind long enough to allow her to position her Jedi interceptor closer to the gunship, giving Ejin a chance to jump off.

"Amazing," he said. "You actually listened for a change."

He slowly stood up from his crouched position on the starfighter's stubby wing and flipped forward. He threw all of his weight and some assistance from the Force into a leap that carried him from Kysslik-Tyyes' starfighter and landed him onto the left wing of the gunship. He drew his lightsaber and activated the pulsating blue blade of fire as he saw General Grievous approach. The Droid General shot him a mortifying stare.

Grievous growled, "Another Jedi to kill."

He spun his lightsabers around and pointed them at Ejin as he loomed towards him. He attacked and their blades met. Ejin gave a fierce glare into the general's yellow and black eyes. They traded attacks and matched defenses as they dueled atop the moving gunship. Ejin, as Serra had, tried desperately to maintain his balance while fighting. His top priority, however different from Serra's, was to kill Grievous at all costs. If he destroy the cyborg general, Ejin reasoned, the war would be significantly closer drawing to a close. Dooku could not command the droid army as he was a powerful political leader, not a military tactician.

Their fight raged on…

"Are you alright, Lieutenant Keto?" the ARC trooper asked as Serra stood up within the gunship.

She shook her groggily. "I'm fine, trooper."

"The name is Heroic," he replied.

"Heroic?"

"Affirmative, Lieutenant."

"Who in the galaxy gave you _that_ for a name?" Serra asked, showing her obvious distaste for the clone's moniker.

"General Windu gave me the name when I served with him in the Deschay campaign," the ARC answered.

"Unique," she said. "Now if you'll pardon me, Heroic, I have a certain droid leader I have to destroy."

"I don't think going back up there is a wise idea, Lieutenant."

She smirked. "And that, Heroic, is why you're the soldier and I'm the commander."

"If you say so," Heroic responded.

Serra leaned out of the side of the gunship and called up on the Force to aid her in her jump. She leaped up and landed on the slanted left wing of the LAAT. With a flick of her finger, her lightsaber glowed to life and she approached Grievous and Ejin in a slow, but determined fashion. Seconds later, Serra joined the fight and together with Ejin, forced the Droid General to rethink his combat strategy and form a more defense oriented fight pattern. As always, Grievous' moves were flawless in their execution. But he lacked the extra edge given to all Jedi by their deep inner connection to the Force. Grievous was nearly perfect, but Serra and Ejin would always have a certain level of an advantage over him.

That is, until, Grievous surprised them entirely.

As the gunship touched down on a landing platform that was raised above the water of a large lake, Ejin approached Grievous from the right to attack him. He kicked Ejin off the gunship with a powerful boot delivered to his chest. Serra glanced down at him for a moment to make sure that he was okay. Ejin had been thrown from the gunship and had landed hard on the dura-steel landing platform. He stirred slowly to his feet.

"All too easy, Jedi scum," Grievous said.

"This is the end of you, General," she replied.

"Oh really? Perhaps you shouldn't be so sure of yourself," he stated.

Grievous bellowed out a sickening laugh and extended his arms to his sides. The electro-drivers in his powerful arms whirred and chirped in typical mechanical fashion. Moments later, Serra's eyes grew large at a seemingly unbelievable sight. General Grievous' two arms instantly became four as they split apart. Two additional hands appeared and reached to his belt to draw two additional lightsabers with two subsequent additional _snap-hisses_ that instantly followed. Standing before Serra, Grievous twirled all four of his lightsabers around in various ways and continued to laugh.

"_Four_ lightsabers?" she exclaimed in surprise. Reserved, she added, "I'm always up for a challenge."

"I will make your death swift, but painful, Serra Keto."

"You only wish, Grievous."

"You must know, Serra, that it is impossible for you to defeat me," the general taunted.

"You have nothing I should be afraid of, General."

"You are a bad liar, Jedi slime. I can see the fear in your eyes," he said.

"Carrying the stolen lightsabers of dead Jedi is one thing, Grievous, but you really should not start pretending to be one."

"The Jedi have been outdated. Your breed is archaic, Serra, and your demise is long overdue," said the Droid General.

"You may have escaped me on the ship, but you will not escape me now."

"Just because you have four lightsabers does not mean you have the advantage, Grievous," replied Serra.

"We will see," he said and spun two of the blades around above his head.

"As you wish," she responded and whirled her own blade in anticipation.

"Prepare for eternity!" Grievous shouted.


	25. Chapter XXV

**Chapter XXV**

Sallanis Morné turned and angled her lightsaber to deflect an oncoming blaster bolt. She continued to deflect shots from an oncoming group of battle droids. From behind her, Commander Jexxa and his squad of clonetroopers poured a wave of fire into the crowd of enemy droids, blasting them apart ten's at a time. Not all at once, but all within a matter of short seconds, Sallanis felt an immediate disturbance in the Force. Serra and Ejin were in grave danger; she could feel it. As she continued to deflect blaster bolts and cut combat droids apart with fluid strokes of her glimmering blue lightsaber, she moved closer to Jexxa to speak with him.

"Serra and Ejin are in trouble."

"How do you know?" he asked while firing.

"I can feel it."

"You Jedi and your Force," he said with a lighthearted chuckle. "What do you suggest, Lieutenant?" he added.

"That we get out of here and get to them immediately, Commander. Their lives may depend on it."

"May?"

"Do. Their lives do depend on it. We need to move quickly," she said.

"As you wish."

"That's not a wish; that's an order," she said with a playful smirk while she spun the lightsaber to block more shots. "Let's get going."

"It will be done, Lieutenant," Jexxa said.

Four spinning lightsabers whirled and spun in front of Serra Keto. She raised her blade to prepare for the upcoming assault. A nagging, painful dagger poked at her inside, telling her with great certainty that there was simply no way in the galaxy that she could ever defeat Grievous, especially when he wielded four lightsabers simultaneously. General 

Grievous approached, lightsabers all about him, protruding at various angles and ready for combat. He attacked, springing forward with all four limbs in dynamic motion, slashing, slicing, cutting, and striking at Serra Keto's lone lightsaber blade. Serra kept herself on a incessant pace of defensive moving; her feet continually moving to keep herself at a safe distance from Grievous' vicious whirlwind of lightsabers.

Serra had mentally studied Grievous' moves in her past two duels with him long enough to see some of his patterns and to take into consideration both his quick-as-light reflexes and his remarkable ability to pick up the pace of a fight by reading his opponent's fighting styles and changing his own instantly to counter. But none of her notes on his form could help in this situation. It seemed that wherever she looked--wherever she moved her lightsaber--she found at least one lightsaber, if not two, to match it and follow up with retaliatory strikes. Grievous was simply everywhere at once; bouncing about to and fro with four lethal lances of light held in his hands and with the full intention of skewering Serra Keto with all four of those lethal lances. His aim was sporadic, but his timing and persistence were as accurate as ever. Grievous moved in ways that seemed to defy the natural laws of physics; he seemed to defy the Force!

In more ways than one, he did defy the Force.

As the monster that Grievous was--a composite being of flesh and bone-white duranium, fused together to sustain life in a frightening figure--he did seem to defy many of the natural laws of the Force. He had been resurrected from near-death and kept alive by entirely artificial means, leaving only organic components that were direly necessary to his body, and formed into a completely new being. No longer the Kaleesh warlord he had been, Grievous had been reshaped by the hands of the Sith to be a Jedi murderer and a commander for their armies, determined to destroy the Republic.

Serra kept her concentration on the battle ahead of her, neither on contemplating the mysteries of the Force nor reasoning out the origins of General Grievous. She moved to her right and three blades whirred past her to lock with her own. Out of the corner of her 

eye, she spied the fourth laser-saber coming in to land a killing blow on her midsection. She leaped back in anticipation of the swipe and the lightsaber sliced cleanly through the air--a moment later and Grievous would have halved her small frame. Ejin moved in from behind Grievous and he adjusted himself to fight both of them at the same time even while they remained on opposite sides of him. Two lightsabers met Ejin's blade while the other chased after Serra's. Grievous jumped into the air and kicked out at both Jedi; the two of them narrowly dodged the attack by rolling in separate directions, away from the Droid General. Ejin and Serra moved away from Grievous and positioned themselves closer to the gunship.

"Run like the cowards you are!" Grievous taunted.

He turned his head at the sight and sound of Kysslik-Tyyes Faanu's Jedi interceptor flying overhead and touching down softly on the open-water hanger platform. Her cockpit opened with a mechanical hiss and she exited the craft. As soon as she was free from the cockpit and standing beside her starfighter, she reached for her lightsaber from her belt. The metallic hilt glistened when the light caught it and, with a flick of her finger, the violet lightsaber glowed from her hands. She spun it in front of her face and tried to hide the fear in her eyes as she inspected her opponent and quartet of blue and green lightsabers.

"General Grievous," Kysslik-Tyyes said.

"Stupid Padawan!" he growled as he turned and took two heavy steps towards her. "I killed your master and now it is your turn to die!"

"You're boring me, Grievous," she said. "If all you have are idle threats, than you're more pathetic than I thought."

"Prepare to meet thy doom!" replied Grievous as she twirled and spun his lightsabers before advancing towards Kysslik-Tyyes.

Serra and Ejin moved quickly to surround their enemy and prepared their lightsabers to defend themselves. Grievous struck at all three of them at once, one lightsaber attacking each of them with his four aimed above his head, ready to target any one of them to overwhelm them and place a killing blow. Grievous moved towards Kysslik-Tyyes and 

unleashed a fierce barrage of strikes and furious blows all with the direct intention of killing her as quickly as he could. Kysslik-Tyyes held her own, but was fast to be pushed across the landing panel. She back-pedaled dangerously close to the precipice and cast frightened eyes towards Serra and Ejin, seemingly pleading for assistance.

Kysslik-Tyyes did not need to say anything; her eyes said more than words could. Despite all of her animosity towards her--despite all of her hatred towards her--Serra could not help but feel obligated to leap to her aid. She jumped into the air and landed to the immediate left of Grievous who spun slightly to adjust his position in order to fight them both. When Ejin joined the fight, Grievous was forced to further change his fighting stance and reposition his powerful duranium legs to help give him an advantage.

As if he needed any other advantage as he wielded his four lightsabers.

Their fight prolonged as the three Jedi struggled to find any sort of weakness in Grievous' fighting form or any kind of flaw in his defenses. They found no such weakness, no such flaw. Grievous continued to carry on the fight as perfectly as he always had. Grievous flipped over Ejin and he spun on his heels to defend himself. The duel between the cyborg and his trio of Jedi enemies carried on with Grievous using his robotic strength and agility to gain an advantage over Ejin Zalo. A harsh kick to his stomach--the same area of his previously injured ribs--sent him flying to the floor and he hit the landing platform with a hard thump.

Serra sharpened her skills and brought herself back up to that higher level of fighting that she had rose into earlier in her fight with Grievous, prior to the murder of Master Or'la. Of which, Kysslik-Tyyes had been using to mentally sharpen herself, too. She focused all of her brewing anger, sorrow, and pain over the death of her Jedi Master towards Grievous and used it hone her lightsaber moves. With every stroke of her lilac blade, she saw herself as scoring the slightest bit of retribution for Deshtok's death. With every swipe, stab, and block, she felt that she was growing stronger; strong enough to destroy Grievous and bring peace to the galaxy.

Serra and Kysslik-Tyyes worked together as a unit to fight Grievous. They both handled two lightsabers at a time and Grievous did his best to cut through their defenses and find an opening to exploit. They continued this way until Grievous forced Serra away from him for second and booted Kysslik-Tyyes to the floor with as violent of a kick as he could muster. She cried out as she tumbled to the ground; her lightsaber rolled away from her. Grievous then poured down a torrent of ferocious blows and slashes with all four of his lightsabers. Serra parried his attacks and kept herself moving backwards as fast as he could to evade his move, all the while trying to place lightsaber attacks and strikes of her own in on Grievous. He defended himself easily and raged on with continued heavy strikes.

The sound of blaster fire caught everyone by surprise. As if on cue, Serra and Grievous momentarily stopped fighting long enough to take a glance at the Republic gunship that was hovering above them and raining down blaster fire. Grievous leaped out of the way of incoming bolts that tore into the ground. He snapped his head over to see Sallanis Morné standing inside the gunship with clonetroopers surrounding her. She held her activated lightsaber in her hand and looked as if she were to be preparing herself for jumping off the gunship and readying for combat with Grievous.

"You Jedi are all the same!" Grievous barked. "You can't win a fight on your own merit so you invite your friends, too. Ultimately, you'll all die. I will admire your lightsabers as they hang in my collection!"

Sallanis waited a moment after Grievous stopped speaking to call out to her Jedi friends.

"Get on board," she shouted.

The LAAT/i set itself down on the landing platform beside the other gunship. Clones under the leadership of Commander Jexxa poured out of the cargo hold and steadied their blasters on Grievous' four-armed form, awaiting a command to fire. When Jexxa gave them the order, the clones opened up on the Droid General, firing at him with every weapon they had in their possession. Grievous sprung into action, running as fast as his duranium legs 

could carry him. Serra, Ejin, and Kysslik-Tyyes stopped for a moment to witness the general's movements.

Grievous dashed and dodged blaster fire as he ran about the hanger platform. Finally, he leaped into the air and landed beside the clones, swinging all four of his lightsabers. He cut off arms, bisected whole troopers, and diced apart others. Severed barrels from blaster rifles fell beside severed limbs. The squad of clones quickly diminished in size as Grievous cut through them. He turned his attention towards Commander Jexxa and two clonetroopers that stood beside him. All three of the clones fired on him, but none of the bolts seemed to find their marks. Grievous killed the soldier to the left of Jexxa and simultaneously picked up the other soldier to Jexxa's right by digging his foot claws into the clone's armor. He threw the soldier like a child would a toy; the limp body smashed against the platform meters away from them. Jexxa looked at Grievous from beneath his helmet with determined eyes. He was not afraid to die.

Even as Sallanis, Serra, and Ejin began to board the gunship with Kysslik-Tyyes not yet climbing on board--insisting to watch, instead--Jexxa raised his compact blaster rifle to fire on Grievous. A single sizzling swipe from one of Grievous' lightsabers separated the muzzle from the rest of the gun. Jexxa discarded the rifle by throwing it at Grievous. A quick whirl of blue and green and the blaster rifle fell to smoking pieces on the floor. Jexxa drew two blaster pistols from holsters on his thighs and aimed them at the general. He managed to rattle off a few shots--one of which even struck Grievous in his armor carapace--before the Kaleesh cyborg slashed apart his blaster pistols. Jexxa retreated his position by backing away from General Grievous slowly, step by step. He pressed a button on his right wrist gauntlet and a whipcord fired from it. It wrapped itself around Grievous midsection. Grievous shot an irritated glare down to it before slicing it, too, in half with a stroke of his lightsabers.

"I'm all out of ideas here!" Jexxa shouted to his Jedi leaders.

Sallanis looked to Serra and frantically said, "You're the only one strong enough to help him, Serra. Don't let Grievous kill him!"

Before Sallanis even finished her statement, Serra jumped off the gunship and landed beside Jexxa, lightsaber spinning to confront Grievous. They locked blades again and Grievous gave a fierce look. She returned a stern and confident stare back at him. Jexxa moved out of the way and boarded the gunship beside Ejin and Sallanis; Kysslik-Tyyes remained on the ground, watching with a growing level on uneasiness. Serra and Grievous continued their fight, but Serra appeared to be showing obvious signs of slowing down and weakening. Grievous moved in to make use of her mistakes. She faltered and Grievous caught her, tripping her with a sweep of his left foot and forcing her to the platform floor. Serra's lightsaber came away from her and she saw it clank to the ground.

Once again, Serra had been defeated.

She awaited the death blow to come. See triumphant saw a smile cross Grievous' eyes. She saw him raise the two of his lightsabers and begin to bring them downwards in an arc that would take her head off. She did not see, however, that Kysslik-Tyyes Faanu flipped through the air at just the precise second to deflect Grievous' lightsabers and save Serra from a certain execution. She parried Grievous' strikes and they exchanged blows and attacks.

"Go!" Kysslik-Tyyes shouted. "Get on board and take off! Go now while I have him distracted!"

Serra hesitated. Kysslik-Tyyes shouted again, "Get out of here!"

Serra respected her friend-foe's wishes and ran towards the gunship, retrieving her lightsaber with the Force as she moved. She jumped aboard the gunship and watched the fight between her would-be killer, General Grievous, and her undisputed savior, Kysslik-Tyyes Faanu, continue. Somehow, something inside Kysslik-Tyyes' antagonistic, mean-spirited heart changed. A person that Kysslik-Tyyes had held in disdain all of her life had 

suddenly become worth sacrificing herself for. It was here that Kysslik-Tyyes became a true Jedi. She learned the one trait that all Jedi shared: unwavering selflessness.

Serra saw what was coming, though. Her heart ached as she saw Grievous overwhelm her savior while the gunship tore into the sky and took off. As she watched from the growing distance, she saw one of Grievous' blue blades--the hilt appeared to resemble Sallanis' old lightsaber, but she could not be certain--pierce Kysslik-Tyyes and burn its way through her abdomen. The last thing Serra Keto, Ejin Zalo, or Sallanis Morné saw as the gunship sped out away from the hanger platform was Kysslik-Tyyes' lone purple blade wink out of existence forever.

On board the gunship, zooming miles away from the hanger platform and General Grievous, Serra Keto's emotions defeated her Jedi training and tears streamed soon streamed down her cheeks. She could not contain herself. The more she thought of Kysslik-Tyyes' altruistic action--the ultimate in selfless sacrifice--the more she cried. How could they have despised each other nearly all of their lives and yet something such as that had occurred? How could Kysslik-Tyyes have maintained such a level of arrogance and narcissism and end up dying in the act of saving the person she purportedly hated?

None of the three Jedi spoke: Sallanis, for she did not know what quite to say; Ejin, because he did not believe in disturbing the silence; and Serra, because she could not bring herself to stop crying and attempt to carry a reasonable conversation. No words were needed, though. They all saw what had happened and their opinions of a former personal enemy had been forever changed by her noble deed. The silence continued to hold dominion over the gunship's cargo hold as the ship sailed towards the silhouette of a Republic Star Destroyer in the foggy distance; an escape vessel to carry them home.


End file.
